


Hogwarts Mystery (Year One)

by GiantRainbowUnicornTaco



Series: Hogwarts Mystery [1]
Category: Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And math is a thing, Gen, It will really diverge from canon later, Quidditch plotline will be mostly cut, Right now I’m just fixing the math, Tags will be updated, The timeline in general will be seriously messed with, random OC’s have started taking over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiantRainbowUnicornTaco/pseuds/GiantRainbowUnicornTaco
Summary: A novelization of the first year of the game Hogwarts Mystery.It’s been two years since Celena’s brother Jacob disappeared, but not a day passes without her thinking about him. She’s excited to start at Hogwarts, but her brother’s reputation precedes her, and it won’t be easy.AU to fix some of the numbers in canon.
Series: Hogwarts Mystery [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086776
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Your Journey Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen a lot of other stories about this, so I thought it was time to give it a try. I won’t follow the game exactly, but I will use most of the main story. If you notice something that I could do better, or even just a grammar mistake, please comment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to move Celena’s first year back two years, to the 1982-1983 school year. Bill and Charlie Weasley have been aged up accordingly, as well as Tonks. Some things just make more sense this way, and as I said, this story follows canon only in the sense that everyone is in character.

I wake to the feeling of cold, dewy grass beneath my feet. The air is cool, and I shiver. I look up, watching the silver glitter of the stars strewn around the night sky. There's no moon tonight.

I sleepwalked again. I started sleepwalking just over a year ago. At first it was only rarely, once a month. Then it became once a week. Now it's almost every night.

I should probably go back to bed, but instead I lean back against the trunk of an oak tree nearby. Overhead, its leaves rustle. Once, I would have believed that the tree was calling a greeting to me. I would have responded. Sometimes I would chatter to the trees for hours, engaged in a one-sided conversation with imaginary friends. That was a child's fantasy. Since then, I've learned that some magic simply isn't there. Such as the magic that will bring my brother back.

My smile fades. I rub my finger along the flower bracelet around my wrist. I found it in Jacob's room the morning he disappeared, with a letter explaining where he had gone. It's all that I have left of him.

 _Jacob, I miss you so much,_ I think. I used to write letters to him, but like conversations with trees, it's another fantasy I've outgrown. Jacob will never write back. He's gone, and I've had to accept that.

Suddenly the rustling of the trees sounds hostile, like they're mocking me. _You're alone,_ they tease. _Your friends have all abandoned you. Even your brother didn't stay. You failed everyone._

I squeeze my eyes shut, blinking back the tears that have started to form. I run to my house and don't look back.

When I've reached the safety of my room, I throw myself onto my bed and let the tears flow. Sleep, when it finally comes, is restless and filled with nightmares. My room is not the haven I thought it was. There's nowhere the nightmares can't find me.

The morning dawns both too soon and too late- too soon for me to get any real sleep, too late to save me from the tormented visions that have plagued me for the past year. Slowly, I roll out of bed and get dressed. I'm a half-blood, so I wear Muggle clothes most of the time.

I walk downstairs and start making breakfast. Egg sandwiches are my favorite.

I set the sandwiches on the table with three glasses- milk for my father, orange juice for my mother and me.

I hear the creaking of the stairs as my parents walk down them. It's a miracle they never hear me sleepwalking. Though even if my father woke up, mum's snoring would probably drown out any noise I make.

"Excited for today, Celena?" Mum asks. There's a wistful look in her brown eyes. "You must be looking forward to starting at Hogwarts."

My father frowns, his bushy eyebrows knitting together over his yellow eyes. I got my eyes from him, but mum's softer features. "Are you sure she should go?" he asks. "It's dangerous. Remember what happened to Jacob."

Mum sighs. She and dad have this argument frequently. I can predict almost word-for-word what they're going to say, as if they're actors reading from a script. "She has to learn to control her magic," she reminds dad.

"I know," Dad says. "But Hogwarts isn't the only place for that. We could send her abroad, maybe to Ilvermorny. Or what about Castelobruxo? You like magical creatures, don't you, Celena?" I suppress a giggle. _Sure, I'd love to go to Castelobruxo- if I spoke Portuguese,_ I think. "Or you could keep homeschooling her!" Dad continues desperately, addressing Mum again.

"But Hogwarts is the _best_ place for her to learn." Mum shoots down his suggestions with her usual ease. "And don't forget, Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster. He won't let anything happen to her."

"Just like he didn't let anything happen to Jacob?" Dad retorts. The first few times that they had this fight, this line caught Mum off guard. She would stutter and look away while she tried to think of a reply. Now, though, she's prepared, and doesn't lose a second responding.

"You're a Muggle, dear," she reminds him, as if he could ever forget. "Leave Celena's education to me. I grew up in this world."

"It's because I didn't grow up in this world that I can see it has more holes than Swiss cheese!" Dad yells back.

Once, those last few lines would have resulted in them not talking for the rest of the day. Now they've heard those sentences enough to know that neither one of them really means what they say. Repetition has erased the sting of the words.

"All right, all right," my father sighs, concluding the ritual. "But be careful, okay, Celena?"

I nod. "Nothing bad will happen. Mum's right. Hogwarts is the safest place in the world." He's not completely reassured, but he knows when he's beaten.

"Have a good day," Dad says.

Mum walks to the fireplace and takes a handful of Floo Powder from the pot. She throws it into the flames, which hiss and spit like hungry snakes. They flare up and turn emerald green. Mum steps into the fireplace with a shout of "Diagon Alley!"

When she's disappeared into the fire, I take my own handful of Floo Powder. Before I can throw it in, dad grabs my arm. I look at him. His eyes remind me of a bird of prey. "Whatever happens, don't do what your brother did," he says, more serious than I've ever seen him. _"Do not go looking for the Cursed Vaults."_ There's a desperation on his face that I haven't seen since he begged Mum to say that Jacob wasn't really gone. My parents have already lost their son to the Cursed Vaults. If they lost me, too, our family would fall apart. "Promise me, Celena!" Dad begs. "I need you to promise me!"

"I promise," I say. My family takes promises very seriously. I've never broken one. As far as I know, neither have my parents. Jacob is the only one I can think of who's broken a promise- the same one that I just made.

The fear has not completely faded from Dad's eyes, but he releases my arm. "Your mother's waiting for you. You'd better go," he says.

I nod. "Diagon Alley!" I say as I toss the Floo Powder into the fireplace. I step into the roaring emerald flames, scrunching my eyes tightly closed. I don't like traveling by Floo Powder.

My stomach lurches as I'm spun through the fire. Even though my eyes are closed, the flames make my eyelids look emerald green.

After a few minutes of spinning, I'm ejected through another fireplace. I stumble into the Leaky Cauldron, brushing small bits of soot off my clothes and back into the fireplace. Mum guides me to a nearby chair, and I sit down until my nausea passes.

"You look like you're about to throw up," a voice next to me observes. I look for the source. There's a girl sitting near me. She looks Indian, with long black hair and dark eyes.

When I look at her, she ducks her head, embarrassed. "Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to be rude. Traveling by Floo Powder affects me the same way."

"It's fine," I assure her. I spot a familiar parchment envelope in her hand. "Are you going to be a first year, too?"

The girl's eyes light up. "Yes!" she squeals. "I'm so excited! I'm going to be a Ravenclaw, I'm certain of it. What about you? What house do you want to be in?"

I pause. I've never thought much about what house I want, but before I can think of an answer, the girl asks another question. "Should we find our supplies together?" she offers.

"Sure!" I agree. "Just let me ask Mum." The girl leaves, presumably to find her own parents. I look for Mum, and see her chatting with the bartender.

I stand next to her and wait for a gap in the conversation. Mum likes to ramble, so I can only be so polite. Right now she's in the middle of a story involving my Aunt Gretchen, her neighbor's dog, my cousin Allie's birthday cake, and a room full of chocolate frosting.

When Mum stops to take a breath, I jump into the conversation. "MumcanIgoshoppingwithmynewfriend," I blurt before she has a chance to start talking again.

"Of course," Mum says, handing me a bag of money and my acceptance letter. "What's her name?"

"Ummm...." I freeze. "I... don't know." How did I not think to introduce myself to the girl, or ask her name?! Inwardly, I smack myself. "I'll ask."

Mum isn't paying attention any more, already jumping back into storytelling mode. "And as you can imagine, Allie wasn't very happy about that dog eating her cake. She scrunched up her little face, and suddenly there was this massive blob of frosting on the table. And then..." Mum's chattering fades away as I search for the girl.

I find her with her family. Her father is holding a boy who looks about four or five, the same age as Allie was in Mum's story.

"So you're telling me that you made a new friend, but you didn't think to ask her _name?"_ the girl's mum asks incredulously. The girl nods sheepishly.

"Is that her right there?" Her father points at me. The girl spins around. Her eyes light up when she sees me, and she runs to me and shakes my hand.

"We forgot to introduce ourselves!" she pants. "I'm Rowan Khanna, and these are my parents, and my brother Finch."

"I'm Celena Serantos," I introduce myself. My hands get sweaty. My brother has a reputation.

Rowan's mother looks at me, her dark gaze unreadable. "Are you Jacob Serantos's little sister?" she asks.

"Yes," I reply. "Is that a problem?"

Rowan's mother blushes and looks away. "No, not at all. I was just making sure."

Rowan drags me away. "Come on, Celena. Let's go buy our stuff." We walk behind the Leaky Cauldron to the entrance to Diagon Alley, with her father trailing behind us. He taps the wall with his wand.

"I'll wait here for you girls!" he calls as the bricks rotate to reveal the entrance to Diagon Alley. Rowan is already pulling me away, making a beeline for the bookshop a few doors down.

"Sorry about Mum," Rowan whispers once we're out of earshot. "She can be a little insensitive."

"It's fine," I whisper back. "I'm used to it." It's the truth. The _Daily Prophet_ articles about Jacob painted him in a bad light, and unfortunately, that's all most people know about him. I've seen the reactions my name causes. Friendly shopkeepers become suddenly tight lipped, frosty or even venomous. "You're Jacob's mother/father/sister? Are you mad too?" they'll ask. My mum or dad's lips will press together in barely concealed anger, and they'll pull me away, telling me to ignore what people say.

I'm shaken from my thoughts by the tinkling of the bell overhead. We've reached the bookshop. The sign above the door says that it's named Flourish and Blotts.

"The textbooks are here," Rowan says, pulling me over to a table in the middle of the store. The table has a big sign that says FIRST-YEAR TEXTBOOKS on it. I refrain from pointing it out, not wanting to make Rowan feel embarrassed.

The textbooks are stacked in neat piles, making checking my letter unnecessary. I take one book from each pile, paying special attention to the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. This year it's _Escaping The Dark Arts For Idiots_. I make a mental note to read it first. Jacob always said you could tell a lot about a professor by their choice of textbook.

"Let's find some other books. My parents gave me some extra money," Rowan suggests. Her face falls. "Though I guess we should wait and see exactly how much it is."

"We can come back later," I reassure her. Mum gave me a few extra Galleons as well.

Rowan gives the bookshelves a mournful look. I have to pull her out of the shop. "You're just going shopping. It's not like you'll be gone for months," I remind her, but Rowan still looks sad. I think of something that will cheer her up. "Let's get our wands first."

"My family grows trees for wands and brooms. Mostly wands," Rowan tells me happily. "It's traditional in my dad's family for girls to be named after plants and boys to be named after animals. But I like to pretend that my name was inspired by Rowena Ravenclaw."

"So do you already have an idea-" I stop in the middle of my sentence. We've reached Ollivanders.

Rowan and I look at each other with wide eyes. This, to me, is the moment that makes it all real. _I'm going to learn magic._

I realize that I'm holding my breath, and let it out slowly. Rowan pushes open the door.

The shop isn't small, but it's cramped. A maze of floor-to-ceiling shelves occupy most of the space. Each holds an assortment of long, thin boxes. There's no writing on either the boxes or the shelves, and I wonder how Ollivander knows where to find specific wands. Are the wands organized by length, or by wood, or by core? Or does Ollivander have a totally different system?

"Here to get your first wands?" Ollivander asks without looking up. His voice is soft and cool, like ice cream, although less pleasant. I feel a shiver run down my spine.

"Yes," Rowan answers. Ollivander pulls a tape measure from his pocket. It flits about like a bird, measuring various parts of Rowan. Ollivander winds his way through the maze of shelves, muttering to himself as he pulls boxes off the shelves.

As the tape measure finishes up, Ollivander selects a box. He opens it and removes the wand inside. The tape measure tries to fly inside the box, but Ollivander snatches it and shoves it back in his pocket.

"Give this one a twirl," Ollivander says, holding out the wand. Rowan takes it. "Aspen wood, unicorn tail hair core, twelve inches."

Rowan waves the wand. Nothing happens, but Ollivander doesn't seem surprised. "Nothing to worry about. I've never matched up a wand and a wizard on the first try." He snatches the wand back and replaces it with another. "Beech wood, phoenix feather core, ten inches."

Rowan waves several more wands, but none of them work. Ollivander darts back and forth between her and the shelves, pulling out wands seemingly at random.

Seven is a common magical number, so it's fitting that Rowan finally has luck with her seventh wand. "Hazel wood, unicorn tail hair core, ten-and-three-quarters inches, hard," Ollivander says, pressing a wand with a pattern of leaves on the handle into her hand. Her fingers curl around it, and she gives it a quick wave. A stream of silver sparks flies from the end.

Rowan looks relieved when Ollivander turns his eerie gaze to me. "Hold out your wand arm," he instructs. I raise my right arm. The tape measure seems elated to be released from the confines of Ollivander's pocket and zips in a circle a few times. Ollivander snaps his fingers. The tape measure reluctantly starts measuring me.

Ollivander pauses in his search. "You are Jacob Serantos's sister," he says, his voice unreadable.

I stiffen. "Yes."

"His disappearance must have had a tremendous impact on you." Am I imagining it, or is there a hint of sympathy in his voice?

"There are a lot of rumors about him," I reply. "It's hard to know what to believe. I want to find answers."

Ollivander nods slowly. "Curiosity can open many doors. I may have just the wand for you." He offers me a wand that looks strangely familiar. "It is nearly identical to your brother's first wand. Maple, unicorn tail hair core, twelve inches, quite flexible."

I take it, expecting to feel... _something_ , but the wand is dead in my hand, just a carved stick.

"No?" Ollivander raises one silvery eyebrow. "I thought for sure... but very well then..."

He hands me another wand. "Pine, phoenix feather core, eleven inches, supple."

The wand feels warm in my hands. I know even before I wave it that it's the wand I want. The stream of golden sparks that fly from the tip confirms it.

"Each wand is seven Galleons," Ollivander says. Rowan and I count out the correct amount of golden coins, carefully placing our new wands in our bags. I wonder if the wood for either came from the Khanna farm.

Rowan and I return to Flourish and Blotts. After buying all of my supplies, I have a few Galleons, several Sickles, and one Knut. Rowan has about the same amount.

Rowan walks to the shelf with vampire romance stories. I make a face and examine the nonfiction books.

Finally, I select a book about wandmaking, eager to see what the meaning of my wand is. I find Rowan. She's holding a new book titled _Dehydration_.

"I have enough left to get an ice cream," Rowan says as we leave the store.

A few minutes later, we sit at a table with ice creams in our hands. Rowan chose mint, and I got banana.

"What should I do if someone gives you trouble about your brother?" Rowan asks unexpectedly.

I sigh. "Please don't do anything. I've found that if I ignore people, they eventually leave me alone."

Rowan nods, her dark eyes serious. "I just wanted to let you know that I have an extensive vocabulary, and if you change your mind, I will use it to defend you."

An imagine pops into my head of Rowan defending me from a bully by calling them a "chauvinistic, discriminatory rascal of a poltroon".

As I dig into my ice cream, a part of me that hasn't been happy since Jacob disappeared starts to thaw. _Jacob, I will find you,_ I think. _No matter how many people are against it, no matter how long it takes... at least I have Rowan now._


	2. Welcome to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any guess on what house Celena will be in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before writing this chapter, I decided to take the quiz on the Harry Potter Fan Club app, and... I was surprised by the result.

I find Rowan in front of the Hogwarts Express. She’s standing with her family. Her mum is holding Finch, who’s crying.

”Why can’t I go to Hogwarts?” he wails.

”You’ll get your turn,” Rowan reassures him. “You just have to wait until you’re eleven.”

”But that’s five years away!” Finch protests. I remember having a similar reaction to Jacob leaving for Hogwarts the first time.

Finch squirms out of his mother’s arms and runs to Rowan. He wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her shirt. “I’m going to miss you, Rowan.” His voice is muffled.

Rowan gives the top of his head a quick kiss. “I’ll miss you too, but Christmas will be here before you know it.”

Their mum takes Finch’s hand and pulls him away. “Come on. Your sister has to leave. Want to get ice cream?”

Finch’s tears dry, replaced by a mischievous smirk. “Only if I get to pick your flavors.”

His mum sighs. “Fine.”

As Rowan’s family walks away, I feel a twinge of pain. Over the years, Jacob’s absence has faded to a dull, constant ache, but sometimes reminders of him cause it to flare up. I see reminders of him everywhere, even though he himself is nowhere.

”Why does he want to pick their flavors?” I ask, pushing away my sadness.

Rowan giggles. “You know that super-sour prank ice cream?”

I make a face. “Yes.” I like sour things, but not _that_ sour. Eating that ice cream is worse than sucking on a lemon. Supposedly, there are different flavors, but it’s impossible to taste anything but sour.

“I got him a Muggle camera for his birthday, and now he makes people eat that ice cream so he can take pictures of their faces.” Rowan grins proudly. “Mine is the best so far.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Better not visit me over Christmas, or you’ll be added to the club.”

We pull our trunks onto the train and search for an empty compartment. Nearly every one is already occupied, and the faces of the people inside make it clear that we’re not welcome. Jacob’s legacy. _Again.  
_

* * *

”Anything from the trolley, dears?” the toothless old witch asks kindly.

”Chocolate Frogs, please,” Rowan says, handing over some money in exchange for a box of the candy. I’ve never liked Chocolate Frogs. Too squishy.

I buy a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans instead. I close my eyes as I dig into the bag. I like being surprised.

”Blech- kale.” I force myself to swallow the disgusting thing and reach inside the bag again, pulling out a bean that’s a few shades lighter.

”I think that’s grass flavored,” Rowan says.

I pop it into my mouth. She’s right. “I know.” I nearly start laughing at Rowan’s face, but instead I sigh. “Yes, I like the taste of grass.” In reality, I was hoping for mint, but grass isn’t bad.

Rowan nods seriously and unwraps a chocolate frog, catching it expertly and wrapping her fingers around its wriggling body. She brings it up to her mouth and quickly bites the head off. The frog goes limp in her hand. That’s another reason I don’t eat Chocolate Frogs. They’re too lifelike.

The day passes quickly as we munch on our candy and chat. Alone with Rowan, it’s easy to forget about Jacob.

What seems like minutes later, the sky outside the train is darkening. We change into our school robes, exchanging looks of excitement. 

Soon after, the train slows to a halt in Hogsmeade. We join the stream of students pouring off the train. Our trunks are still on the train. They’ll be taken to the castle for us.

”Firs’ years over here!” a voice calls, audible even over the excited chatter that surrounds us. I don’t have to look very hard for the source of the voice. It’s hard to miss a man who’s eleven feet tall.

Rowan and I make our way to the lake, where the man is standing. I recognize him from Jacob’s stories as Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper.

Hagrid waves his hand at a line of small boats floating on the surface of the lake. “No more’n four to a boat!” he says as the last of the first years reach us.

Rowan and I climb carefully into one of the boats. We’re joined by a pair of girls, one with short bubble-gum pink hair and the other with long red hair. The red-haired girl is carrying a toad.

The red-haired girl gets in easily, but the pink-haired girl loses her balance and falls. The red-haired girl catches her and helps her in while I hastily lean back to avoid the boat being flipped over.

”You girls all right?” Hagrid asks. I don’t think I’m imagining the laughter in his voice.

”We’re fine,” the pink-haired girl responds... except now she has sapphire-blue hair. I try to remember what people who can change their appearance at will are called. Morph-somethings.

The boats start gliding across the lake’s black, glasslike surface. The red-haired strikes up a conversation.

”I’m Tulip Karasu,” she says. She holds up her toad. “This is Dennis, my partner in crime.”

The Morph-something girl pouts. “I thought _I_ was your new partner in crime.”

”Dennis has seniority,” Tulip says airily.

”I’m Nymphadora Tonks, but don’t _ever_ call me Nymphadora or I’ll hide Dungbombs in your socks,” Tonks warns us, turning her hair back to pink.

”You’re a Metamorphmagus,” Rowan says excitedly. A Metamorphmagus. _That’s_ what it’s called.

”Yes,” Tonks says briefly. She’s probably sick of people talking about it. “And you are?”

Rowan and I exchange embarrassed glances when we realize that we forgot to introduce ourselves again. We really need to work on that.

”I’m Rowan Khanna,” Rowan introduces herself, awkwardly holding out her hand to Tulip. She’s probably trying to shake hands, but instead Tulip plops her toad on Rowan’s open palm.

”I don’t make friends without consulting Dennis first,” Tulip says. Rowan looks at me in confusion. I shrug. Tulip is weird.

We’re interrupted by Hagrid’s shout. “Heads down!” Rowan, Tulip, and I duck down, but Tonks nearly gets snared by a vine. Tulip yanks her down just in time.

The boats float through a dark tunnel, finally stopping at a rocky little beach. Tulip takes Dennis back from Rowan.

A short walk later, we find ourselves in the shadow of Hogwarts. Hagrid knocks on the door, passing us off to a stern-looking woman in emerald-green robes whom he calls Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall leads us into a small room. A girl with messy brown hair pushes past me, stepping on my toes and elbowing me in the ribs. When I glare at her, she smirks. Her eyes are purple, like amethysts. I make a mental note to steer clear of her as much as I can.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall says. “The start-of-term feast will begin shortly, but first you will be sorted into your houses. While you are at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with other members of your house, sleep in your house dormitories, and spend free time in your house common rooms.

”The four houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards.”

Someone at the front of the room whispers something. Professor McGonagall glares at the speaker. “Yes, Mr. Caplan, even Slytherin,” she reprimands him. “Merlin himself was a Slytherin.”

Professor McGonagall addresses everyone again. “While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most house points is awarded the house cup. The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. Please wait here.”

I look around. Some students are nervously talking. They don’t know how we’ll be sorted, and no one is inclined to tell them. It’s just wearing a hat. Nothing to be afraid of.

Soon Professor McGonagall returns for us and leads us into the Great Hall. We form something resembling a neat line. 

The Sorting Hat is perched on a stool not far away. I hear the other students muttering in confusion.

A mouth-like tear in the Sorting Hat’s brim opens and it bursts into song.

When the Sorting Hat has finished, Professor McGonagall unrolls a piece of parchment. “When I call your name, you will sit on the stool to be sorted,” she instructs. “Ali, Badeea!”

A girl wearing a blue hijab makes her way from the end of the line to the stool. She places the Sorting Hat on her head and waits.

”RAVENCLAW!” the Sorting Hat shouts. The Ravenclaw table cheers. Badeea takes a seat at the end of the table.

Dylan Brooks becomes a Ravenclaw, then Diego Caplan becomes a Hufflepuff. “Copper, Ben!” Professor McGonagall calls. A nervous-looking boy places the Sorting Hat on his head. It takes a long time, but he’s named a Gryffindor, to my surprise.

Name after name is called, and I do my best to remember them all. I’ve never been very good at remembering people’s names. It’s their personalities that stick with me. Autumn Gray is the first Slytherin. Penny Haywood joins Hufflepuff. Tulip is named a Ravenclaw.

”Khanna, Rowan!” Professor McGonagall finally calls. Rowan gives my hand one last excited squeeze before running to the Sorting Hat. I hear a few snickers at her eagerness.

It only takes a moment for the Sorting Hat to decide on Ravenclaw. I smile at the overjoyed look on Rowan’s face as she sits next to Tulip.

“Serantos, Celena!” I look at Rowan before sitting down. She grins and gestures to the empty seat next to her.

I sit down and place the Sorting Hat on my head. _You’re an interesting one. I haven’t seen one like you in years,_ the hat whispers inside my head. _A loner, yet you have a gift for connecting with people. Plenty of fire, and a thirst for knowledge. Dedicated, ambitious... I would say Slytherin, but you won’t agree to be separated from your only friend._ The Sorting Hat shouts it’s decision to the entire Great Hall. “RAVENCLAW!”

Rowan is the only one who cheers as I sit next to her at the Ravenclaw table. Dylan Brooks pointedly turns his back on me. 

I turn to watch Tonks, who’s being sorted next. I can see the disappointment on Tulip’s face as Tonks is named a Hufflepuff.

”Guess we’ll have to find a new partner, huh, Dennis?” Tulip asks Dennis, who is sitting on the table next to her plate.

She looks at me. “What about you, Serantos? Want to liven things up around here?”

Before I can answer her, Rowan interrupts. “You shouldn’t disturb other students learning,” she says, glaring at Tulip.

”I have an academic streak, too. I’m a Ravenclaw, aren’t I?” Tulip reassures her.

Rowan looks unconvinced. “What about Tonks? Does she have an academic streak as well?”

Tulip laughs. “Tonks doesn’t have an academic bone in her body. She’s just here for the chaos.”

Rowan sees that she’s not going to get through to Tulip and angrily spears a piece of chicken. Tulip feeds Dennis some flies from a jar.

”I’m starving,” Rowan says through a mouthful of chicken. “Don’t talk to me, Celena. I get mad when I’m hungry.”

I giggle and leave Rowan in peace, collecting my own plate of food and digging into it. Even though the other Ravenclaws aren’t talking to me, it’s hard to be sad with two friends and a plate of good food.

When the feast has ended, one of the prefects introduces himself as Chester Davies. “Follow me to the common room,” he says. My fellow first-years and I follow him out of the Great Hall.

We reach the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room. “The only way in is to answer a riddle,” Chester says.

Dylan Brooks raises his hand, as if we’re in class. “What if we’re not good at riddles?” he asks in a small voice.

Chester looks at him with an unreadable expression. “Then you’ll sleep out here on the floor.” He laughs. “Just kidding. Someone will answer it for you.”

I don’t think Chester’s joke is very funny, and it’s clear from the tears pooling in Dylan’s dark eyes that he doesn’t think so either. “I’ll help you,” I offer. “There are some tricks that make it easier.”

Dylan glares at me. “I don’t want your help. You’re mad like your brother.”

I sigh in annoyance, my sympathy for him melting like an ice cube in a fire. “Have it your way. I was just trying to be nice.” Will it always be like this? Will people never forget what Jacob did?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a new voice. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s coming from an eagle head on the door in front of us. “What is a sound,” the eagle says in a cool voice, “that can also be touched?”

I run through a list of sounds in my head. _Bang, crash, snap..._ I’ve just decided on “whistle” when another voice speaks up.

”Bark.” It’s Badeea Ali, the first person to be sorted. Her voice is quiet, but there’s a sureness to it. 

“Correct,” the eagle says. The door swings open, letting us into the Ravenclaw Common Room.

We file through the door, Chester first, Badeea second, Rowan and I bringing up the rear.

Rowan drags me to one of the many blue armchairs and pushes me into it, sitting down across from me. There’s an older boy, a third- or fourth-year, practicing a wand movement nearby.

”I’m so excited!” Rowan shrieks. “I can’t believe we’re both in Ravenclaw! I’m so excited to learn charms, and potions, and transfiguration, and history, and-and... everything! What are you looking forward to the most, Celena?”

The boy stops waving his wand and stomps over to us with a scornful look on his face. “You’re Jacob Serantos’s little sister,” he snarls. I’m startled by the rage on his face. This is far beyond the usual whispers and taunts. The expression on his face is one of pure fury. “You should never have been allowed in Hogwarts. Your brother tried to ruin Hogwarts. I’m going to talk to Professor Flitwick and get you kicked out of Ravenclaw.”

The boy stomps off again, presumably to find Professor Flitwick. Rowan looks at me with an expression of confusion. “That seemed a little overboard,” she says.

”Yeah,” I agree. I try to convince myself that it’s just the usual stuff that made him so angry, but something tells me otherwise. No. This isn’t just about the Cursed Vaults.

This is personal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you think of any other solutions to the riddle?


	3. Just Hanging Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celena has some free time before her first day of classes, and she decides to use it to find out why that boy hates Jacob, and by extension her, so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story does NOT take place in the magical Rowling universe where September 1st is always a Sunday.

Sometimes, when I wake, I wonder how no one ever sees or hears me sleepwalking. It's possible to walk down the stairs in my house silently, yes, but it requires a stealth I doubt I possess while asleep.

Tonight, I'm standing in front of a portrait that I know is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. The portrait is of a fat lady in a pink dress, or at least it was when I saw it earlier. Now, though, the portrait's occupant has left its frame, perhaps to visit friends. Randomly, I wonder if portraits need sleep as well. I saw some napping portraits when Chester led us to Ravenclaw Tower, but perhaps they just like the comfort an untroubled sleep brings.

I should find my way back to my dorm. I don't want to be found standing in front of another house's common room when people start to wake up. But when I walk for awhile, I realize that I'm lost. I don't know the general layout of Hogwarts yet, and the staircases and suits of armor have moved around, making it even more confusing. The darkness adds yet another layer of difficulty, casting shadows where before there were none and making everything look different.

"Lost?" I jump when I hear the voice behind me. I turn and see the boy from the common room. Like everything else, the darkness has changed his appearance, softening the sharp angles of his face. There's no trace of his earlier anger in his voice.

Hesitantly, I nod. Some paranoid part of me worries that this is a trick, that he plans to lead me to wherever Filch is patrolling the halls before making a run for it, leaving me to be punished.

"This way," the boy says, setting off in a direction that I can only hope is the right one. I run to catch up.

The boy looks at me, his expression unreadable. "I don't think I've introduced myself," he says. I shake my head. "I'm Caleb Green. You're Celena Serantos, _Jacob's_ little sister." He says my name without emotion, but spits out Jacob's like it's poison.

"Can I ask why you hate my brother so much?" I ask. My feeling from earlier hasn't faded, that this is more than just the usual stuff about the Cursed Vaults.

“My sister Olivia was one of Jacob’s best friends,” Caleb says.

My eyebrows go up. Jacob never mentioned any friends. Now that I think of it, Jacob never mentioned his fellow students at all.

If Caleb notices my surprise, he doesn’t mention it. “They were searching for the Cursed Vaults together. It started as an accident. Jacob opened the first vault. Olivia tried to close it, and they ended up working together.

“Jacob was always the leader of them, the one searching for the vaults. Olivia didn’t care as much, but once they were open she felt obligated to end the curses.

“You know the stories about the treasure inside the vaults?” I nod, even though Caleb doesn’t really want an answer. He continues with barely a pause, “Olivia said the lure of the treasure was slowly driving Jacob mad. He became obsessed with opening all of the vaults. His grades dropped. Olivia had to slip him potions to get him to sleep.”

When Caleb pauses again, I try to think of how it must have felt for Olivia, watching her best friend slowly slip away from her, from everyone, disregarding everyone’s safety in pursuit of his own dream. Part of me doesn’t want to believe what Caleb is saying. Because if he’s telling the truth, then the _Daily Prophet_ was right about him, and I didn’t know my brother at all.

I realize that Caleb has started speaking again and force myself to listen. “Olivia said that being expelled was the best thing that could have ever happened to Jacob. She hoped he’d go home to his family and forget about the vaults. But of course, that’s not what happened.”

For the first time since he started telling his story, Caleb turns and looks at me, really looks me right in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you earlier. I just wanted to make sure you stayed away from the vaults, so that your friend doesn’t have to go through what Olivia did.”

I nod, and we finish our walk to the Ravenclaw common room.

It’s not until I’ve climbed back into my bed and curled up under the covers that I realize something doesn’t feel right about Caleb.

* * *

I wake before dawn the next morning. No matter how fitful my sleep, I always wake early. It’s both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because it frees me from nightmares and leaves me with enough time to wash all signs of tears from my face before anyone sees them. A curse, because not all sleep is restless, and there are times when I would rather not wake up.

I walk to the Great Hall before anyone else wakes up. It’s not really that late, almost six-thirty, but evidently Ravenclaws are late sleepers.

There’s no one else in the Great Hall. I’m confused by this. Surely I’m not the one early riser in all of Hogwarts.

Almost no one. I spot a purple-robed figure sitting in the chair at the center of the head table. I hesitantly make my way to him. 

Professor Dumbledore looks up as I reach him. “Ah, Miss Serantos,” he says. “Please, have a seat.” I take the seat next to him, which is Professor McGonagall’s.

”Why is there no one here, sir?” I ask.

”Breakfast isn’t served until eight to allow the house elves ample time to prepare the food. In the future, if you are awake before then you are expected to either stay in your common room or help the house elves in the kitchens,” Professor Dumbledore explains. 

I nod. Three hundred people eat a lot of food. I wonder how many house elves Hogwarts has.

“Why are you here so early, sir?” I ask hesitantly. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“The beginning of the year is often very chaotic. I like to have a quiet hour to myself in the morning.” He points upwards at the ceiling of the Great Hall, which mimics the predawn sky outside. “I could be alone in my office, of course, and I very often am, but it’s not the same without that ceiling.”

I nod as I look up at the fake sky. It really is beautiful.

“The house elves will be finishing up with breakfast soon, so I would head back to your common room so your friend doesn’t worry,” Dumbledore says. I nod again and stand to leave.

“Oh, and Miss Serantos?” Dumbledore’s voice stops me before I get very far. “Every year at Hogwarts is interesting, but something tells me this year will be more interesting than most. Please, do your best to stay out of trouble.”

* * *

Rowan snores. A _lot_. I return to our dormitory to find that all of our roommates except for Badeea, who is an impressively deep sleeper, are clustered around Rowan’s bed.

Alana Morgan looks up as I enter. “Run away from the buzzsaw?” I try to remember what impression she made at the Welcoming Feast, but the truth is, she didn’t make any impression at all. She spoke just twice, once to say she’s a Muggleborn and once to make a joke about a pirate getting seven Cs on his report card.

“A _what?”_ Tulip asks.

Alana’s shoulders sag. Both of her attempts at jokes have fallen flat. “A spinning circle that Muggles use to cut things.”

Tulip’s eyes light up. I can tell she’s thinking of all the ways a buzzsaw could be used for pranks. Unfortunately for her, a buzzsaw won’t work in Hogwarts.

“There has to be something we can do about this,” Helena Ross says, folding her arms with an expression of annoyance on her face. Her sour gaze turns to me. “You’re her friend. Ask Madam Pomfrey for a potion or something.”

“We’ll go after breakfast,” I say, wondering in amusement if Rowan’s snoring was what made me sleepwalk last night.

Rowan finally wakes up with a loud snort. She looks up at the rest of us with bleary eyes. “Why are you all over here?”

“Your snoring woke us all up,” Helena says.

“Sorry,” Rowan mumbles, crawling out of bed and opening her trunk. She pulls out her robes and hat and heads into the bathroom. The rest of us find our uniforms and follow her in.

The floor of the bathroom is smooth, cold marble. I wish I had put on socks before coming in. There’s a row of sinks, each with a faucet shaped like an eagle’s head.

Rowan ducks into the first of a row of changing stalls. The doors are blue and the handles are bronze. Helena beats me into the one next to her. I take the middle stall, leaving Tulip and Alana with the last two.

Inside the changing room is a bench made of marble and a large mirror, topped with a carved eagle’s head. It’s a good thing I like eagles. And blue. And bronze. I’ll be seeing a lot of them in the next seven years.

I shiver as I pull my robes over my head. I decide that whoever designed Hogwarts never used this room, otherwise they would have picked a material that was less cold than marble.

When I’m done, I find that Helena, Tulip, and Alana have already left. Rowan is waiting for me by the door. I follow her down to the Great Hall.

“Is my snoring really that bad?” Rowan shoots a sideways glance at me.

“It really is that bad,” I say with a laugh. “I promised the other girls we’d go see Madam Pomfrey about it after breakfast.”

“If you think _I’m_ bad, you should hear _Finch,”_ Rowan protests.

I shudder in mock horror. “I don’t think I want to.”

Rowan laughs and loops her arm around mine, pulling me along towards the Great Hall.

I take the seat on the end, with Rowan next to me. Alana and Tulip both seem friendly, but for now, I prefer to keep my distance.

Rowan piles her plate high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. “Hungry?” I ask teasingly.

 _“Very.”_ Rowan rips a piece of toast in half and shoves part of it in her mouth. Helena scowls disapprovingly and cuts a small bite of ham for herself. Next to her, Tulip is turned around and deep in conversation with Tonks. Their plates are untouched. On the other side of Rowan, Alana has been forced into a conversation with Andre Egwu.

“I have a scarf that would look great on you,” Andre insists. Before Alana can protest, he pulls a royal-blue-and-magenta scarf from his bag and hands it to her.

“You don’t have scarves for the rest of us?” Rowan asks teasingly, trying to distract Andre from poor Alana. Alana smiles faintly and shoves the scarf in her bag.

“Not yet,” Andre says. “I knit all my scarves myself, so it will take awhile. I have a sweater that would look good on you, though.”

“No, thank you,” Rowan hastily refuses. “I have enough sweaters already.”

“I’ll take it,” Helena purrs. Rowan rolls her eyes, as does Alana. Classes haven’t even started yet, and Helena is already getting on everyone’s nerves.

Andre eyes Helena critically. “It wouldn’t look good on you,” he decides. “You have warm undertones.”

“Everything looks good on me,” Helena pouts.

“You’ll get your own scarf when it’s ready,” Andre says with a note of finality. Helena looks like she’s going to say something else, but she’s cut off by the arrival of hundreds of owls.

A few of them swoop down near us, depositing our timetables. Rowan, of course, is the first to snatch hers off the table, her eyes scanning it eagerly. Helena is the last to take hers.

We have seven classes. Each of them happens three times a week, with the exception of Astronomy, which happens twice- one practical and one theory.

“Yes!” Rowan cheers. “We have double Charms first!” She looks at me. “What class are you most looking forward to, Celena?”

“Hmmm...” To be honest, I’ve never given much thought to that. “Herbology,” I decide. I like plants. Jacob and I had a garden in our front yard. After he disappeared, I stopped tending to it. Now it’s nothing but weeds.

“Well, we have Herbology on Tuesdays and Wednesdays,” Rowan says, still looking over her timetable. “And- _no,_ History of Magic isn’t until _Tuesday_.” She manages to make _Tuesday_ sound unbearably far away, when it’s in less than a week.

“You won’t be so excited when you finally have History of Magic,” a second-year not far from us chuckles. “Professor Binns’ class is the most boring.”

“Well, at least the textbook is interesting,” Rowan says. She fills her mouth with scrambled eggs, making it clear that the conversation is over. I smile and realize that I still haven’t gotten any food for myself. I place a few pieces of toast on my plate and smear them with jam.

What seems like minutes later, the students begin to pour from the Great Hall. Rowan and I join the stream with the other first years.

This time, I’m the one who pulls Rowan over to my trunk when we reach our dormitory. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s see what our wands say about us.”

“All right.” Rowan rattles off a description of her wand as I page through the wandmaking book from Diagon Alley.

“Let’s see... unicorn tail hair core,” I find the page I’m looking for. “Unicorn hair cores make for a faithful, though not particularly powerful wand, and are the hardest to turn to the Dark Arts. Hazel is sensitive, and- ooh, this is interesting- possesses a unique ability to sense water underground. A unicorn hair and hazel wand is very likely to die with its owner.”

“That’ll be handy if I ever visit a desert,” Rowan jokes, a smile growing on her face. I realize that growing up on a tree farm, she probably knows some of this stuff already, and search for my own wand.

“Phoenix feather cores are the most rare and are capable of the greatest range of magic, and also have the most initiative. Pine is most sensitive to non-verbal magic, almost always paired with those destined for long lives, and it enjoys being used creatively.” I laugh as I read the description of the ideal owner of a pine wand. “‘The straight-grained pine wand always chooses an independent, individual master who may be perceived as a loner, intriguing and perhaps mysterious.’ That definitely sounds like me.”

“Hmm... I’m not so sure about ‘intriguing’” Rowan jokes. “You seem pretty boring to me.”

I give her a gentle shove. “Hey!”

“Can you look up my wand?” I recognize the soft voice as Alana’s. I look up, startled. When did she come in?

“Of course,” I say. “What is it?”

Alana lists the characteristics of her wand as Tulip and Helena come in. I find myself describing their wands when I’ve finished with Alana’s.

 _Maybe Hogwarts won’t be so bad after all,_ I think. Even Helena has started to put aside her prejudice.

The thought that comes to me next has nothing to do with me at all. _If only it was so easy to change a Death Eater’s mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was rewritten. When the game’s year seven is finally released, I will not be following it, because I’ve already started to lay the groundwork for a year seven of my own.


	4. A Friend and An Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celena’s first day of classes arrives, and she spends more time with the other students.

The day of our first class, I wake up near the kitchens. I look at the painting of a bowl of fruit that I know conceals the entrance to the kitchens. Dumbledore said that I could help the house elves make breakfast if I woke up early again. The problem with that is, I don’t know how to get past the painting.

I turn and walk back to the Ravenclaw common room. While I walk, I think about the classes we have today- Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration. Charms sounds interesting, but I confess that I’m not looking forward to the afternoon. Early Transfiguration lessons won’t be so bad, but later we’ll be Transfiguring animals into inanimate objects. Jacob insisted that there was a difference between that and outright killing them, though I never saw the distinction. And there are rumors circulating about the Potions master, rumors about whose side he was really on in the recently-concluded Wizarding War...

I feel an involuntary shiver run down my spine as my feet finally stop before the carved eagle head. I answer a riddle and slip up to my dormitory, intending to fetch a textbook to read until breakfast.

Rowan’s snoring, thankfully, has quieted. She takes doses of a potion prescribed by Madam Pomfrey every night after dinner. Now the sounds of her snoring are closer to a cat purring than an angry bear.

I find my Charms textbook and tiptoe back to the common room.

The pre-dawn stillness of the common room reminds me of a library. It’s a familiar, soothing atmosphere for any Ravenclaw. I settle into an armchair- blue, of course- losing myself in a quiet broken only by the soft rustling of pages as I turn them and the soft crackling of the fire opposite me.

“Celena.” Absorbed in my reading, I almost miss the soft voice that speaks my name. Startled, I look up to see Rowan standing over me. How long have I been reading?

“Come on,” Rowan says, bouncing on her toes like an excited puppy. “Today’s our first day of classes. You’ve got to get ready.” Rowan, I notice with a grin, is already dressed.

“All right, all right, I’m coming,” I say with a laugh.

A few minutes later, I rejoin Rowan and the other first-years, and we walk to the Great Hall together. Between the ten of us, _someone_ will know the way.

Alana trails behind the rest of us, looking at the floor and fiddling with the end of her braid. I think about joining her, but Rowan has pushed her way to the front of the group, so I follow my friend instead.

Today, instead of sitting in a block at the end of the table, the other first-years disperse amongst the older students. Andre sits with a group that I recognize as the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He’s followed by Helena, who hasn’t given up on her attempts to flirt with him. Tulip and Tonks are as deep in conversation as ever. Dylan is seated next to a tall boy with the same curly hair. They must be brothers. Only Rowan, Alana, a boy named Talbott Winger, and I are left in our little cluster at the end of the table.

Talbott and Alana don’t seem interested in talking, so I half-listen to Rowan’s excited chatter while I eat breakfast.

Our first class is double Charms, with the Gryffindors. It’s taught by Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw house, a fact Rowan is quick to remind me of.

The room is large and well-lit, with two long tables on either side of a central aisle. Tiny Professor Flitwick is perched on a stack of books behind his desk.

Rowan practically drags me to the seats nearest the front of the room. The other Ravenclaws file in behind us, leaving the Gryffindors to take the seats on the other side of the aisle. Nervous Ben Copper is opposite Rowan, forced into the seat nobody else wanted. I don’t know the name of the girl next to him.

“Welcome to your first Charms class,” Professor Flitwick squeaks. “Now, before we begin, who can tell me the incantation for the Wand-Lighting Charm?”

Rowan’s hand is practically a blur as it shoots up. I hear scattered snickers, mostly from the Gryffindors’ side of the room, although I think Tulip might be among them.

“Miss Khanna?” Professor Flitwick says, ignoring the other students.

 _“Lumos_ , sir,” Rowan answers with certainty.

“Correct. Five points to Ravenclaw.” Rowan grins proudly. Professor Flitwick resumes speaking to the entire class. “Today, we will be learning the Wand-Lighting Charm, _Lumos_. I will begin with a demonstration. I hope you all find this lesson quite _illuminating.”_

There are scattered snickers at his pun, although a few students laugh harder, Tulip among them.

Professor Flitwick demonstrates the wand movement for us. It’s nothing hard, just a simple circle. He explains that the hardest part about casting Lumos is using the correct amount of concentration. Too little and the light is white, too much and it turns red. “Of course, there are times when you may want varying amounts of light. But in general, you should aim for a nice yellow color,” Professor Flitwick explains. “Now, who would like to try it first?”

This time, my hand beats Rowan’s into the air. She’s slower to volunteer, less confident in her ability to actually cast the spell.

“Miss Serantos,” Professor Flitwick says.

 _“Lumos,”_ I say. At first, the light at the end of my wand flickers between white and yellow, but soon it steadies into a consistent yellow glow.

“Very good, Miss Serantos,” Professor Flitwick says. “Five points to Ravenclaw.”

Rowan and I exchange pleased smiles before Professor Flitwick asks Rowan to try _Lumos_. Like mine, the light wavers at the start, but soon steadies into a pretty yellow glow.

Professor Flitwick moves down the line, asking each student to cast _Lumos_. Everyone manages it. It’s a simple spell. That’s why it’s the first one we learn.

“Excellent, Mr. Copper,” Professor Flitwick says when he reaches the end of the line. “That’s the best _Lumos_ I’ve seen from a first-year in quite some time. Five points for Gryffindor.”

Ben Copper turns bright red as a few of his fellow Gryffindors glare at him, annoyed that he was better than them. I squint at the light at the tip of his wand, but I don’t see a difference between it and the ones Rowan and I produced. I’m sure Professor Flitwick knows what he’s talking about.

When class ends and Professor Flitwick dismisses us, Ben is the first to dart from the room- quick and skittish like a mouse.

We have the rest of the morning off, so I decide to follow him.

Rowan frowns when I tell her this. “Why?”

“Because _someone_ should be his friend, and I doubt that someone will be a Gryffindor,” I say exasperatedly. Didn’t she notice how the other first-years treated him?

The girl who was sitting next to him laughs. “You’re right about that,” she says. “No one wants to be friends with the Mouse.”

My fingers itch; if I knew a jinx I would use it on her. “The houses are about the traits you _value,_ not just those you possess,” I snap instead. “Gryffindors might not all start out brave, but their house _should_ help them face and conquer their fears.”

The girl shrugs. “Then he’ll get practice standing up to us.”

I grab Rowan’s arm and pull her away, accepting that I’m not going to get through to this girl. I look around for Ben, but he’s disappeared during our argument.

Then I round a corner and almost walk straight into him.

“Oh! Sorry,” I exclaim. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s fine,” Ben says. “I heard what you said back there. Thanks for sticking up for me.” He looks at the ground. “I know I should do it myself, but I’m too afraid.”

“It’s normal to be afraid of bullies,” I assure him. I want to say that I know a lot about bullies, but I hold myself back. Hearing about my problems won’t help Ben.

“You don’t understand. It’s not just bullies. I’m afraid of everything.” Ben sounds miserable. “Darkness, heights, water, fire, spiders...”

“I’m sure there’s something Rowan and I can do to help,” I assure him. Rowan looks at me doubtfully, but I ignore her.

“All right,” Ben says. “Keep me from fainting, falling, throwing up, or doing anything else embarrassing in Flying class. Then you’ll see just how afraid I am.”

“Then we’ll show you just how brave you are,” I say, but inside, I’m not so certain. I can feel tendrils of doubt creeping through me. What if Ben really is as terrified as he thinks he is? What if he’s beyond help?

I push my doubts away. I will help Ben. I don’t want to let my friends down. Not Ben, not Rowan... not Jacob.

* * *

The dreaded afternoon begins with Potions. I follow Rowan down to the dungeons. The dungeons are dark and windowless, illuminated only by a few flickering torches.

Twenty of us cluster around the door, Ravenclaws and Slytherins. I see the girl who stepped on my toes at the Sorting Ceremony smirk and start to make her way towards us. I hurriedly strike up a conversation with Rowan, hoping that she’ll leave us alone if we ignore her. I really should know better by now.

The Slytherin girl stops next to Rowan. I try to think of her name, but I only remember her last name- Snyde. It stuck in my brain because of how fitting it seemed.

I hope Snyde isn’t very creative. I’ve gotten used to the same handful of insults, letting time wear the sting from them like water flowing over sharp rocks.

“Your brother lost his mind, disgraced his house, ran away from Hogwarts, and was never seen again,” Snyde says abruptly. “You belong in Ravenclaw. It’s a house of spineless bookworms.”

Rowan glares at Snyde, but I shake my head at her. Of course Snyde isn’t creative with her insults. Why should she be, when the _Daily Prophet_ provides her with so many?

“We have spine enough to stand up to the likes of you, Snyde,” I say coolly. _You knew this would happen. Don’t let it bother you._

“Who are you?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Why do I care who she thinks she is?

“Merula Snyde. Fourth-generation Slytherin. The Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts.” Snyde sounds proud. I know the look in her eyes. She’s hoping we’ll argue with her, tell her we’re better than her. Well, she’s out of luck. Rowan and I know enough to not-

Rowan snorts. “That’s logically impossible,” she says. “I’ve made numerous lists of the most powerful witches at Hogwarts. You’re less powerful than Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Madam Hooch... you’re just a first-year like us!”

“I am _nothing_ like you,” Snyde hisses.

“Just leave us alone,” I say.

I feel someone standing behind me. Rowan’s sudden look of terror allows me to guess who it is. I turn, one look confirming that my guess was correct. It’s Professor Snape.

“Serantos,” he says, and my heart sinks. Professor Snape is said to favor Slytherins, so it’s easy to guess that he’ll take Merula’s side over mine. “I knew you would be trouble.”

“Merula was bullying my friend, Professor,” I say. I don’t expect anything to come of it, but Merula needs to learn that I won’t hesitate to turn her in.

“Just get to class, and be glad you’re not headed to detention,” Professor Snape grumbles, opening the door. I readjust my cauldron in my arms and follow Rowan into the classroom.

“Unlike your other classes, this is not a place for foolish wand-waving and intolerable screeching of mispronounced incantations.” Professor Snape’s voice is quiet, but no one’s attention wanders. I’m not sure any of the other Ravenclaws are even breathing. “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. Ensnare the senses. Bewitch the mind. Keep your mouth shut.” If any of the other professors had said that, I would assume that they were joking. I believe that Professor Snape, however, is serious.

Professor Snape waves his wand, and white writing fills the chalkboard. “Today we will be brewing a very simple potion, the Cure for Boils. Know that I expect perfection. And know that there are severe consequences for failing to meet my standards. The instructions are on the board. Extra ingredients are in the cabinet if you need them. You may begin.”

“You think you’re so special, but you’re already doomed to fail,” Merula hisses. I ignore her and gather the ingredients I need. How did she end up at our table, anyway?

Rowan gives up on reading the board almost immediately and opens her textbook to the Cure for Boils recipe. I follow her lead, aware of Merula’s eyes on me. I decide to keep an eye on her while I brew, worried that she’ll try to ruin my potion.

Whether because I’m expecting it or because of some other reason, Merula doesn’t try anything during the period. My potion isn’t perfect, but it’s passable. I fill a bottle with it and carry it to Professor Snape’s desk, Merula following me like some kind of malevolent shadow.

Fortunately, we have Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, not the Slytherins, so we’re freed from Merula’s irritating presence.

I join Rowan at a table in the front of the room and place my textbook in front of me, A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch.

Professor McGonagall begins the class with a lecture. “Transfiguration is one of the hardest branches of magic to master. I expect you all to work very hard for as long as you take this class.”

Rowan is perched on the edge of her chair, her eyes shining. She looks ready to prove that she’ll work hard.

Professor McGonagall was right about Transfiguration being difficult. We spend the majority of the lesson copying down the Transfiguration alphabet and formula, learning about the different types of Transfiguration... There’s so much information. I’m not sure how I’ll remember it all.

The last step before we can try a basic Transfiguration is solving the Transfiguration equation. Professor McGonagall gives us a match. “You will be turning this match into a needle,” she says. “Remember, the Transfiguration formula is only a theoretical way of measuring difficulty.”

I hear several of my classmates let out sighs of relief. Of the four variables in the equation- wand power, concentration, viciousness, and the mass of the beginning object- only one is actually measurable. Only Rowan looks disappointed, robbed of a chance to show off her studying.

We struggle for several minutes to change our matchsticks into needles, but it’s very hard, much more difficult than casting Lumos. By the end of the lesson, I’ve barely managed to turn the tip silver. Rowan fares a bit better, probably due to her intense studying of the Transfiguration formula. No one else manages anything.

Professor McGonagall rewards us each with five points for Ravenclaw. Rowan and I exchange pleased smiles. Between the two of us, we’ve earned twenty points for Ravenclaw on our first day. I remind myself to check the House Cup standings at dinner that night.

I follow Rowan from the room, thinking about a match and a needle. It’s supposed to be one of the easiest Transfigurations, but when you think about it, they’re very different, sharing only a similar shape and weight. They’re not the same thing at all.


	5. Afraid to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celena has her first Flying class. Ben needs a lot of help to conquer his fear. As for Celena and Rowan? Well... let’s just say that they won’t be joining the Quidditch team anytime soon.

The first two weeks seem to pass in the blink of an eye. Rowan and I work hard in classes. She always knows the answers to questions, while I’m better at practical magic.

The only classes we have with the Gryffindors are Charms and History of Magic. Not even Ben can find Professor Binns’ boring classes scary- unless he’s afraid of sleeping. His confidence in Charms seems to be growing as well, thanks to his success with simple spells and the praise given to him by Professor Flitwick.

As far as our fellow Ravenclaws, Dylan remains cold with me and Helena is still annoying. Andre has started to get on my nerves as well with his constant fashion advice. You’d think the fact that he’s never seen me in anything other than my uniform would stop him, but no. He’s always criticizing someone’s hair or lack of accessories. 

The third boy, Talbott Winger, hasn’t spoken a word to anyone, at least not that I’ve heard. Alana has taken it upon herself to lure him out of his shell, but so far it isn’t going very well.

Flying classes start today, and I’m pleased to see that we’re with the Gryffindors. Ben is going to need all the help he can get if he’s going to ride a broom.

I join the other Ravenclaw first-years as we walk outside to the Training Grounds. We might have spread out during meals, but when we’re going somewhere new, we prefer to travel in a pack. There’s something comforting in numbers, although it’s not like we need protection from anything. I guess inside, we’re all just more afraid than we like to admit.

My thoughts are disrupted when we reach the Training Grounds. Flying classes are taught by Madam Hooch, a woman with short gray hair and yellow eyes. Before we’re even allowed to touch the brooms, she gives us a long lecture on all the things that might make us fall to our deaths. Long hair, a loose grip, lack of concentration... it’s a long list.

Ben weaves through the crowd of Gryffindors to my side and grips my hand. I give it a reassuring squeeze. His face is pale, and his palm is sweaty. Sweaty hands were on Madam Hooch’s list, I remember nervously, but I refrain from pointing it out to Ben. I’m sure he’s all too aware of the fact.

Finally, we’re allowed to stand beside the brooms. Rowan takes the broom on the end, with Ben next to her and me on the other side of her.

”Hold your right hand over the broom and say, ‘UP!’” Madam Hooch instructs.

”UP!” Everyone shouts. My broom leaps upwards, but falls short. Halfway to my hand, it falls back to the grass. I look over to see how Ben is doing. His broom barely twitches.

Madam Hooch orders us to mount our brooms. Ben’s knuckles are white as he grips the broom.

”Try to relax, Mr. Copper,” Madam Hooch says as she passes him. “Forgetting to breathe won’t help you.”

Ben lets out a shaky breath. “You’ll be fine,” I whisper. He nods, but he doesn’t look reassured.

When Madam Hooch blows the whistle, we kick off and rise in a shaky line. I try to stay by Ben’s side, but it’s difficult since we’re only just learning to fly. I drift above him. Rowan manages to stay near him.

”To come down, simply lean forwards.” Madam Hooch is circling around us like a hawk. I know she’s looking to help us, but she reminds me of a bird of a prey. It’s making me nervous, and Ben is much worse. Even from a few feet above him, I can hear his ragged breathing.

We lean forwards and return to the ground. Ben is hesitant and doesn’t move. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone streak downwards too fast and hit the ground, crumpling with the impact.

It’s Alana. I land as Madam Hooch helps Alana to her feet. Alana stumbles and almost falls again. Her face is white. It’s clear that she’s in pain.

”Broken ankle, probably.” Madam Hooch looks up to where Ben is still frozen above us. “Mr. Copper, you need to come down. I’m taking Miss Morgan to the Hospital Wing.”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, but starts walking slowly in the direction of the castle, Alana leaning on her.

I look up again, watching Ben. It’s clear that he’s not going to return to the ground by himself, so I mount my broom again. A few of the other students protest, but I ignore them. Madam Hooch never said we couldn’t fly while she was gone, and besides, I’m only helping a friend.

”Come on, Ben,” I say when I reach him. “You can’t stay up here forever.”

”What if I get hurt like Alana?” Ben whimpers.

”You won’t,” I assure him. “Take it slow. I’ll help you. You’ll be fine.”

Ben nods and leans gently forwards. He drops a few feet. The drop seems to startle him, and he squeals and stops. I hear a few snickers from the ground, but they’re soon silenced, probably by a glare from Rowan.

”It’s all right.” I do my best to soothe Ben. “Catch your breath. Take your time. You’ll be fine.”

Slowly, we make our way back to the ground, dropping a few feet at a time. I say encouragement the whole time. It seems to be helping. Ben’s breathing slows, and his grip on the broom loosens a tiny bit.

Finally, we land on the ground beside Rowan. I look around as Ben collects himself, panting. For once, the other students are polite enough to abstain from insulting him.

Then I realize that it’s not so much politeness as fear of a professor. Madam Hooch has returned, without Alana.

She gives me an approving nod. “Ten points to Ravenclaw for helping Mister Copper, Miss Serantos.” 

For once, I’m not proud to receive house points. I shouldn’t have been the only one willing to help Ben. How have we strayed so far from what the houses were meant to be?

”Thanks, Celena,” Ben mumbled, his face still pink from embarrassment. I hear a snicker finally escape a Gryffindor girl.

Madam Hooch turns to face the girl, who I recognize as the one I talked to after our first Charms class. “And ten points _from_ Gryffindor, Miss Macmillan.”

Macmillan- I can’t remember her first name- looks down as well. I feel a surge of satisfaction.

Ben’s face pales. “Excuse me, Madam Hooch. I think I’m going to be sick.” He sprints towards the castle. No one laughs. I can’t find it in me to be grateful for something that should come naturally.

* * *

_My house is empty. Cold. What happened to the fire? Where is my family?_

_I wander through the house, calling for Mum, Dad, Jacob. There’s no response. Only then do I notice the dust that has settled over everything. They’ve been gone for a long time. I notice other details, too. The dishes in the sink, the half-eaten bagel on the counter. Wherever they went, it wasn’t planned._

_I try to look out a window, but there’s nothing but gray mist. I’m alone, cut off from the world._

_There’s only one place left to search, but it’s the one I dread the most. I push open the door to my brother’s room. It’s just as he left it, bed unmade, dirty laundry carelessly tossed in the corner._

_A mirror hangs above his desk, one that isn’t there in the waking world. I know now that this is a dream, but it feels so real. The cold is the most vivid, piercing into me. It burns. My breath forms clouds in the freezing air._

_I look into the mirror. Jacob looks out._

_”Find me, Celena.” His voice is pleading, a desperate whisper. His fingers reach out, pressing against the glass. I put my own hand to the mirror, wishing that it would pass through like water, and my brother could come home._

_But no. There’s only cold._

_”You know where to find me,” Jacob says. His face starts to melt away._

_”No,” I plead. “You have to stay. Come back.”_

_My breath fogs up the glass, and I’m left alone in a ghost house._

* * *

The first thing I notice when I wake is the cold. It’s not as bad as in my dream, but I’m colder than I ever remember being.

I shiver and start walking. Is it always this cold at night? Maybe I need warmer pajamas. But no, I would have felt this cold before.

I think back to my dream. It felt so real, so vivid. I can remember the feel of the mirror beneath my fingers. The sound of Jacob’s voice.

 _Jacob._ I think back to his last words, “you know where to find me”. _But I don’t know where to find you,_ I think. _I don’t have any idea where to start._

It gets warmer as I near the entrance to the common room, and my suspicion that this cold isn’t normal grows.

My feet are still numb, so I decide to return to my dormitory for some socks. I really need to start putting them on before I go to bed.

As always, the Common Room is empty. That isn’t so strange, though, because I’ve been waking up earlier every night.

I pull on a pair of thick blue socks. When Mum found out that I had been sorted into Ravenclaw, she sent me all sorts of blue things- socks, sweaters, notebooks, quills. Dad sent me some tie-dyed shirts to balance out the blue. He probably made them himself. He likes to say that magic is wonderful, but nothing can compare to making something with your own hands.

Rowan must have forgotten to take her potion last night. She’s snoring again. Since I won’t be getting any more sleep, I decide to look over my Potions essay once last time.

I find the carefully rolled parchment in my trunk and crawl into bed, pulling the covers over my head. _“Lumos,”_ I whisper. The tip of my wand glows.

Merula hasn’t bothered us since our first Potions class, but I’m certain that she’s merely biding her time. Ben and Alana have both had to endure her teasing, since they’re Muggleborns.

I don’t exactly when it happens, but I must fall asleep at some point, because I wake up in the morning with my essay still gripped in my hands.

And what happens when I wake?

Well.

You could say that’s when it all begins.


	6. Stirring up Trouble

In the years since his disappearance, Jacob has become both a comfort and a thorn. A thorn, because he left me to bear the consequences of his actions alone. A comfort, because when things get too bad, I can remember the days when I was a little kid, when our family was whole, before Jacob was corrupted by the Vaults’ influence.

But even the happiest memories have been marred by the darkness that’s always lurking. His loss has become a constant ache, turning everything bitter.

Today, we’re learning a potion that could take all of that pain away, if only I would let it. It’s a fact Merula is all too aware of, and one she uses to feed her return.

”Serantos,” she says, the ever-present smirk not fading from her face. For the first time, I notice dark circles underneath her eyes. Is it possible that her nights are as troubled as my own?

 _No._ I force myself back into reality. I will not allow myself to feel pity for a girl like Merula Snyde, especially not when she’s insulting me.

”Thinking about drinking today’s potion, Serantos? It would let you forget all about your mad brother.” There’s false sympathy in her voice, but I can still pick out the underlying current of cruelty. “Of course, _I_ would never let you forget.”

Rowan wants to reply to her, tell her to back off. I can feel it, and I’m grateful for her friendship, but Merula isn’t worth it.

I stubbornly ignore Merula, gathering my ingredients even before Professor Snape’s instruction. I can’t brew with one eye on Merula this time. The Forgetfulness Potion is too difficult. I’ll just to hope that she won’t try anything.

 _Hope. Trust._ These things are so fragile, like spiderwebs. Like dreams, there’s no substance to them. How can something so intangible be so powerful?

I wave my wand over my cauldron and leave it to boil. Across from me, Merula is only just adding her Valerian sprigs. I wonder what delayed her.

Merula is quiet as she finishes the first stage of brewing. Her silence makes me uneasy, far more than her taunts. It means she’s planning something. I dread finding out what it is.

I crush a mixture of mistletoe and standard ingredient in my mortar, adding two pinches of it to the cauldron. I stir the potion five times and wave my wand over it again.

When class finally ends, I fill my bottle with my potion, which has turned the correct shade of orange. I cork the bottle and carry it to Professor Snape’s desk.

”Serantos.” Professor Snape stops me as I set my potion down. “I visited your dormitory earlier this morning. There were stolen potions ingredients underneath your bed.”

My eyes find Merula, who is hovering by the door. The barest trace of a smirk is visible on her lips.

 _Culprit caught,_ I think. _Now I just have to turn her in._

”Why would I do such a thing, sir?” I ask. I want to cross my arms, but I don’t want to come across as too disrespectful.

”Because you’re just like your brother, and you’re determined to ruin Hogwarts. How should I know what goes on in your tiny mind?”

 _Water running over stones. You’ve heard it all before._ I take a deep breath. I shouldn’t expect anything different from the biased head of Slytherin. “Merula obviously did it, sir,” I say, struggling to keep my voice polite.

I’ve just resigned myself to a detention when Professor Snape looks over at Merula. Her eagerness to watch this conversation has made her seem guilty. “Is this true, Miss Snyde?”

”Of course not! Serantos is obviously a liar!” Merula’s response is too quick and too fierce. The only question is if Professor Snape will be willing to call her out on it.

”I genuinely wish you weren’t lying, Miss Snyde.” Is that disappointment I hear in Professor Snape’s voice?

”Excuse me?!” Merula is fighting a losing battle, but she’s too stubborn to back down.

”You are a terrible liar, especially for a Slytherin,” Professor Snape says. “You will spend every night after dinner helping me organize ingredients until the holidays as punishment for attempting to frame Serantos.”

_Three months. If he hadn’t believed me, I would’ve had detention for the rest of the year._

Merula’s eyes stare into mine. Their meaning is clear. _This isn’t over._

I look back at her. _No. It isn’t._

* * *

One reminder of Jacob. That’s all I have. Everything else was confiscated by the Ministry.

And according to Madam Hooch, it will make me fall to my death.

I don’t understand exactly what the danger of a simple bracelet is, but Madam Hooch has a strict “no jewelry” policy, so before every Flying class, I remove my bracelet and place it near everyone else’s jewelry- Alana’s watch, Helena’s necklace, Tulip’s Dungbomb necklace, and a collection of other items.

Ben has grown more comfortable flying. He still sticks close to my side and maintains a death grip on his broom, but at least he can attempt new manouvers without shaking.

Rowan stays near us, nervous, but not as much as Ben. The only time her fear shows outwardly is when it’s time to return to the ground. Looking down.

Andre is already an incredible flyer, certain to make the Quidditch team in a later year.

Me? I’m not bad, I guess. I’d say that half of the class is better than me and half is worse.

Anyways, we all spend the class idly circling, touching down and lifting off again under Madam Hooch’s watchful eyes. Finally, she blows the whistle and we all returned to the ground for the final time.

I stay airborne for an extra second, watching Rowan, Ben, and Alana. Even though Alana hasn’t spoken much to me, I’ve grown strangely protective of her. Maybe I just don’t want to see her get hurt again.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the others all return to the ground safely. I lean forward and follow them.

The pile of jewelry has been reduced to just one item, Alana’s watch.

What? No. That can’t be right.

But it is.

My bracelet is gone.

 _But I didn’t tell anyone what it meant to me... except Rowan and Alana... in the Great Hall... where anyone could have overheard._ Countless people hate my brother, and it’s impossible to know which one is responsible.

Unless, of course, they decide to make themselves known.

I hide my emotions behind a blank face and ditch Ben and Rowan as soon as I can. It’s surprisingly easy. Ben, of course, has to return to the Gryffindor common room.

“Hey, Rowan,” I say, managing to keep my voice level. 

Rowan looks at me sideways. “What?”

”There’s something I have to do. Do you mind going back to the common room without me?”

Rowan looks uncertain. I don’t have the most convincing of stories. But then, it doesn’t need to be. I just need her gone. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

”I’m sure,” I assure her. We turn and walk in opposite directions. I hope Rowan won’t follow me. This is something I need to do alone.

I stand outside the Slytherin common room for an hour, but the girl I’m look for doesn’t appear. Eventually, I realize how odd I must appear and return to my own common room.

Rowan looks up from her book when I enter our dormitory. “Did you do what you needed to do?” she asks.

”No,” I say, but I’m interrupted by a strange noise.

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._ A large, handsome Barn Owl is tapping at the window. It has a letter gripped in its beak.

I open the window, letting the owl flutter in. It drops the letter on my pillow and flies back out through the window. I close it behind the owl and pick up the letter. _What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until the morning?_ I wonder, unrolling the small scrap of parchment.

There are just a few words written, but enough that I can guess who sent it.

_Tomorrow morning, seven o’clock.  
_

Below the instructions is a hastily drawn map of the rooms near the Charms classroom. One small, non-descript room is circled, presumably where I’m supposed to meet Merula. Because I’m certain that the note is from Merula.

I hide the note under my pillow so Rowan can’t see it, waving away her questions. Maybe I’ll tell her tomorrow. Or maybe I won’t.

* * *

The next morning, I wake up in my own bed. It’s a rare occurrence, but not completely unprecedented. My sleepwalking hasn’t always been so frequent.

I leave Ravenclaw Tower at six forty-five, leaving me with plenty of time to find the storage closet or whatever that Merula circled.

And there she is. Just as I knew she would be.

I’m tense, preparing for a fight. I don’t know any dueling spells, but my fists will get the job done if it comes to that.

Merula hands over my bracelet without even a taunt. “Why bother taking it, then?” I wonder. I don’t realize that I said the words out loud until Merula smirks.

”I wanted you to see what’s inside this room,” she says, pulling open the door and gesturing for me to look inside.

I take a step forwards, inside the room. “I don’t see anyth-“

The door slams shut, plunging me into darkness. Something wraps around my ankle. I try to kick it away, but it only holds on tighter.

”That’s a plant called Devil’s Snare,” Merula says. “Any Ravenclaw will know how to fight it.”

I hear her footsteps leaving. _Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare... Come on, you know this!_ The first tendril has been joined by others, wrapping around my legs and creeping up towards my waist. I can feel them trying to pull me down towards there fellows. 

_“Lumos,”_ I yell. My wand flares bright red, and I aim the light at the tendrils snaring my legs. The ones highest up retreat, but I still can’t tear myself away. And the others will return, as soon as my concentration wavers. 

“Help!” I scream, hoping someone, anyone, will hear me. I would even be grateful for Merula right now.

I twist around, stabbing my wand in the direction of any vines that I feel creeping higher up. The constant movement, combined with the concentration required to maintain the brightest _Lumos_ possible, not to mention my constant shouting, eventually tires me.

The light dulls to yellow. The vines creep higher. _“Lumos!”_ My wand flares red for an instant before fading back to yellow. I feel vines wrapping around my waist, creeping towards my left arm.

The light turns white. I can’t keep this up much longer. Why is no one coming?

Vines wrap around my chest. One creeps toward my neck. They’re even getting brave enough to wrap around my right arm, no longer kept away by my wand’s feeble glow.

I stumble, falling backwards into a mass of waiting vines. They coil around like snakes. I’ve stopped screaming now. I no longer have the breath to do so. All my concentration is focused on the faint light at the end of my wand, although it can’t do any good now.

Then my light goes out entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short but I thought this was a decent chapter. This finishes up chapter three- yes, THREE- of the game. Hopefully the pace will pick up a bit after this.  
> Anyways, how do you think Celena will get out of this one? I’ll give you a hint, it won’t be the same as in the game. And who do you think took the bracelet for Merula?


	7. Revenge is Best Served Magical

Darkness.

The Devil’s Snare, trapping me in its iron grip. I can’t move, can’t breathe. I can’t even see.

No help is coming. No help came before, and none will come now that the Devil’s Snare has silenced my screams.

But then- _impossible. No. I must be imagining it._

The door opens, and light, wonderful _light,_ floods in. I squint at the doorway, trying to make out the figure silhouetted in the door. _Caleb?_

_”Incendio!” It is Caleb!_

Flames appear at the end of Caleb’s wand, forcing the Devil’s Snare to retreat. A few tendrils are scorched by the fire.

I stand, tugging myself free from the dead vines. “How did you know that I was in here?”

“I got a letter telling me to come,” Caleb says, holding out a piece of parchment that has a map drawn on it. “I don’t know who sent it.”

The maps don’t look like they were drawn by the same person. Of course, the one I received is still buried in the Devil’s Snare, so I can’t compare them.

I look down, realizing that my robes are completely shredded. I’ll have to change when we get back to the Ravenclaw common room.

As if sensing my thoughts, Caleb starts walking faster. “You get changed into new robes. I’ll tell your friend what happened.”

I nod and hurry upstairs, hoping that my dormitory will be empty.

Unfortunately, it isn’t. I spot Alana perched on her bed, staring at the window.

Alana turns. “What happened to you?” she says, her eyes widening when she sees my robes.

”I got caught in Devil’s Snare. Merula tricked me into going in,” I say. I change the subject. “How’s your ankle?”

”Better,” Alana says. “It still hurts a little, but Madam Pomfrey says that it’ll stop hurting in a few days.”

”I have to get changed,” I say, digging a fresh robe from my trunk.

It only takes me a minute to get changed, but when I return, Rowan has joined Alana.

”Caleb Green told me what Merula did.” Rowan’s eyes are filled with anger, matching the tone of her voice. “We have to do something.”

”Rowan’s right,” Alana agrees. “We can’t let her get away with this, Celena.”

I nod in agreement. “We can’t,” I say, “Let’s talk to Ben. Merula bullies him, too, and he’s really good at Charms.”

“Does anyone know where he is?” Alana asks.

”No.” Rowan shakes her head.

”I’ll talk to him during breakfast tomorrow,” I say.

* * *

The Room of Requirement.

That’s where Ben said he likes to hide from Merula. He said that an older student taught him how to enter it, although he couldn’t say who, or even what house they were in.

Unsurprisingly, he’s too afraid to duel Merula himself, or even try a couple of the dueling spells. I barely even managed to talk him into watching Rowan, Alana, and I practice.

The four of us gather at the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Ben is nervous, twitching and looking down at the ground. Alana looks around grimly, as if she’s expecting an attack. Rowan just looks excited to learn more spells. As for me? I’m almost as nervous as Ben. Ben is the best at Charms in our group, but he’s far too nervous to confront Merula. Alana and I are equally skilled, but Merula has been more antagonistic towards me, which means I’ll almost certainly be the one to duel her, and face the consequences.

We pace back and forth. _We need somewhere where we can learn how to duel,_ I think.

On the third pass, a door appears in the wall. The rest of us follow Rowan in.

We find ourselves in a spacious room lined with bookshelves. The floor is carpeted, and there are pillows strewn around the room. Presumably, they’re to cushion us if we fall. On top of the bookshelves are various devices that I don’t recognize.

Rowan pulls a book off of one of the shelves and sits cross-legged on the floor with the open book in her lap. She flips through in search of a good starting spell. Alana and I peer over her shoulders. Ben is fascinated by a dark stain on the carpet nearby. I try not to think about what could have made it.

”Here!” Rowan says suddenly. She stops turning pages and points at a heading.

 _”Rictusempra,”_ I read. “The Tickling Charm.

”It’s simple, and it’ll be embarrassing for Merula to have a laughing fit in front of loads of people!” Rowan says excitedly.

Alana gets to her feet. “Let’s try it, Celena!”

I stand as well, facing her and raising my wand. Rowan demonstrates the wand movement for us. Ben seems to have gotten over his nervousness and examines the textbook. He offers some minor corrections, and then we’re ready to begin.

 _”Rictusempra!”_ Alana shouts. A jet of silver light shoots from the end of her wand, hitting me in the stomach.

I double over, laughing uncontrollably. “ _Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”_ Tears run down my cheeks. My breaths come in gasps between laughs, forming a stitch in my side. I start to understand how this spell could be terrifying if it wasn’t removed quickly.

Rowan finds a counterspell, and my laughter stops. I stand up straight and raise my wand. “Your turn, Celena,” Rowan says with a grin.

I point my wand at Alana. _“Rictusempra!”_

Rowan turns to watch as Alana falls into the same laughing fit. I grin wickedly and aim my wand between Rowan’s shoulder blades. _”Rictusempra!”_

”Hey!” Rowan shrieks before dissolving into giggles.

 _”Rictusempra!”_ I say a third time, hitting Ben with a jet of silver light. Too late, I worry that I shouldn’t have. What if the spell still makes him nervous?

I don’t have time to think about it any more, because Alana collects herself enough to hit me with another _Rictusempra,_ and I join the other three in a giggling mess.

* * *

One more. We decide to learn one more spell that day. Rowan selects the Disarming Charm, _Expelliarmus,_ which the dueling book calls “a dueler’s most essential spell”.

Ben decides to give it a try, so we pair up, him and Rowan, me and Alana.

 _”Expelliarmus!”_ Alana shouts.

My wand jerks free of my hand. I make a grab for it, understanding what makes _Expelliarmus_ such a good spell. Succeed, and your opponent is helpless to prevent your next attack. Fail, and they’re still left vulnerable for a few precious seconds. 

“Good j- _Expelliarmus!”_ Alana is caught by surprise and drops her wand. While she scrambles to pick it up, I hit her with _Rictusempra._

”Nice combo,” Alana says, still catching her breath after another bout of laughter. “You’re ready for the duel- if you duel her.” She pauses for a second. “I figured whoever she comes after next would be the one to duel her.”

“That seems fair,” I say. “Think you’re ready?”

Alana shrugs. “How good can Merula be? She hasn’t practiced like us.” But I hear the slight waver in her voice. She’s more nervous than she’s willing to admit.

”You guys good?” Rowan’s voice interrupts us.

”I think so. You?” Alana looks at me for confirmation and I nod.

”We’re done too,” Rowan says. “Should we go back to our common rooms?”

Rowan and Alana leave to return to Ravenclaw. Ben walks towards the Gryffindor tower. I follow him.

”Good job today,” I say.

”No one’s scared of laughter, Celena,” Ben says. His voice is sharp. He looks straight ahead, avoiding my eyes.

”I didn’t say you-“

”That’s why you were congratulating me, isn’t it? Because I wasn’t afraid. Do you think even _I’m_ afraid of _literally_ everything?” Even with his head turned away, I can tell that he’s crying.

”No! I just wanted to say that you did really well with the spells, and- and-“ I’m lying, and it’s clear as glass. I feel ashamed. Ben is right. He’s not a little kid, needing to be congratulated every time he does something right.

Ben turns. I was right. He’s crying. “That’s the real problem. I’m the best at Charms. I should face Merula,” he says. “But I’m too afraid. You’ve done nothing but help me and now I can’t return the favor. I can’t stand up for myself, can’t defend my friends. I’m useless _and_ a coward.”

“Each of us has our own weaknesses, and our strengths,” I assure him. “This isn’t the time for your talents, but your time will come. And when it does, you’ll be ready.”

It’s what any good friend would say, but something tells me it’s more than that. Something tells that Ben’s moment _will_ come, and when it does...

I’ll be glad I saw it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but we’re really moving now. Next up, the long anticipated duel with Merula, Caleb gets a letter, and Hogwarts gets colder.


	8. The Duel

We’ve done all we can, studied, trained, prepared. The next move is Merula’s.

All we can do is wait.

Leaves start to fall from trees. The air grows colder, promising snow soon. October fades into November, which in turn inches toward December.

Still, Merula does nothing.

Oh, she taunts us, of course, but nothing so serious that we can risk dueling her. Alana and I will not make ourselves the villains.

On the first day of December, Rowan asks me to play Gobstones in the courtyard. At first, I think it’s an odd choice, with the weather growing colder. Then I realize that it’s the perfect setting for a duel.

“Finch and I play Gobstones all the time on the farm,” Rowan says. “I’m pretty good.”

“I haven’t played in years,” I admit.

“Need a refresher on the rules?” Rowan asks as she sets out several small stone balls.

I nod, and Rowan continues, “We each start with fifteen Gobstones. The goal is to capture all of your opponent’s stones. Each time a point is scored, the loser gets sprayed in the face.”

“Sprayed with what?” I ask.

Rowan shrugs. “No one knows, but it smells disgusting!”

I laugh. “All right. Let’s play.”

We start the game, and I realize that I remember more of it than I thought. It’s comforting, a reminder of the child I used to be.

“Did you see the _Daily Prophet_ today?” Rowan asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t get it.”

“Merula’s parents have been arrested,” Rowan says.

“Really? Why?” It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Merula is the child of Death Eaters.

“The Ministry finally proved that they were Death Eaters. The article said that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been trying to convict them for years, but they could never get enough evidence.”

I frown. “What changed?”

Rowan shrugs. “I don’t know. The article didn’t say.”

“Are you talking about my parents?” We’re interrupted by a familiar voice. Rowan and I get to our feet, facing Merula.

“Yes.” There’s no reason to lie. “So that why you’re always so angry? You were worried about your parents getting caught?”

“You know _nothing_ about me. You think reading one article tells you anything?” Merula crosses her arms and glares at us.

I glare back. “Then why do you think you know anything about my brother?”

Merula smirks. “I know more than you can imagine.”

I sigh in annoyance, but part of me can’t help wondering if Merula really does know something I don’t. “Why are you over here, anyway?”

“I learned a new spell. I thought you might like to see it.” Merula lifts her wand, but it’s not pointed at me, it’s aimed at Rowan. _“Flipendo!”_

Rowan is thrown to the ground. I place myself in front of her. Rage rushes through me, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from using a spell on Merula, but I stop myself. I have to let her hit me first, however annoying it may be.

A crowd has gathered around us, although no one seems interested in intervening. I stop Ben’s terrified face in the crowd. Next to him, Alana gives me an encouraging nod.

Rowan gets to her feet and scrambles away, melting into the crowd. “Do you _only_ make friends with cowards, Serantos?” Merula sneers, raising her wand again. _“Flipendo!”_

I fall to the ground, but quickly pick myself back up. _“Rictusempra!”_

Merula doubles over, laughing, as a jet of silver light hits her in the stomach. She still manages to attempt another Knockback Jinx, but it’s weak, and I dodge it easily.

“Is that the only spell you know?” I ask derisively. _”Expelliarmus!”_

Red sparks fly from the end of my wand, pulling Merula’s wand from her hand. It falls to the cobblestones. She looks at in shock, then straightens to face me. “How did you learn that spell already?” she asks in disbelief.

“Studying,” I say. “I am a Ravenclaw, after all.” I turn and walk away, hoping Merula won’t try to jinx me while my back is turned.

”Don’t walk away me! You haven’t won!” Merula screams. “You’re not better than me! You _can’t_ be better than me! I’m Merula Snyde, fourth-generation Slytherin! I do what I want when I want! I run this school! I-“

I keep walking all through Merula’s tirade, but when she stops screaming, I turn around. Only one thing could have silenced her.

Sure enough, Professor Snape is standing behind her. Merula’s back is towards me as she looks up at her head of house. Professor Snape’s dark eyes are unforgiving as he looks down at her. I wonder if he’s angry that she attacked me, or just angry that she got caught.

“Who cast the first spell in this duel?” Professor Snape asks, addressing the crowd around us. He can’t trust us to tell the truth.

“Merula hit Rowan and Celena with _Flipendo,”_ a silver-haired Hufflepuff girl pipes up after a moment of silence.

Professor Snape nods curtly. “Thank you, Miss Lobosca.”

Merula glares at the Hufflepuff. I hope whatever-her-name-is won’t get in trouble for speaking up.

”Nevertheless, there will be consequences for both of you,” Professor Snape continues, addressing me and Merula again. “The punishment I would suggest is... _expulsion.”_

I gulp. I sneak a glance at Merula, and see my fear reflected in her eyes. Surely Professor Dumbledore won’t expel us... right?

“You will meet me outside the headmaster’s office after dinner to discuss the consequences of your actions,” Professor Snape says before walking away. Merula watches him with a desperate and pleading look on her face.

As I watch his retreating back, I can’t help but wonder... why _outside_ Professor Dumbledore’s office?

As the group around us disperses, Rowan, Ben, and Alana join me. I look for Lobosca. I want to thank her for telling Professor Snape what happened, and offer her help if Merula comes after her. But she’s already gone.

“Great job, Celena!” Rowan says excitedly. “Merula certainly won’t be coming after us again for a long time.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, but part of me doesn’t agree with Rowan. Yes, Merula will lay low for a while, but once her dignity has recovered and her anger has had time to ferment... then she’ll want revenge.

“I was terrified the whole time,” Ben confesses. “Especially when Merula hit you with the Knockback Jinx. But you just got up and hit her back.”

Alana simply nods, apparently deciding that Rowan and Ben have said everything.

“Come on.” Rowan loops her arm through mine and starts pulling me away. “We still have homework to do.”

I laugh. “Only you could think of homework at a time like this, Rowan.”

Rowan shrugs. “I am a Ravenclaw.”

* * *

The corridor outside Professor Dumbledore’s office is freezing, even for December. I wish I’d worn something warmer.

Professor Snape and Merula haven’t arrived yet, but I spot a blonde girl standing at the end of the corridor. I know her name. It’s one of the few I can remember. Penny Haywood, Hufflepuff and the most popular girl in our year.

Penny spots me and walks quickly to where I’m standing. “Celena!” she exclaims warmly as if we’re friends, when in fact we’ve never spoken.

“You know who I am?” I ask in surprise. I try to remember if she was in the crowd when I dueled Merula.

“Does that surprise you?” Penny asks.

“Yes. You’re Penny Haywood, and I’m... me. I’m not popular.” Well-known, yes, but popular? No.

“I disagree,” Penny says. “You stood up to Merula Snyde when no one else would. Everyone respects you for that... except for maybe a couple of the Slytherins.”

“Well, umm... thank you.”

“I also wanted to say that I’m pretty good with potions, so I can help you if you ever need it.” Does she think that I’m struggling in potions? Because I’m not.

“Thank you,” I say again. _Please leave. This conversation is making me so nervous._

Penny leaves, but I’m not alone for long. Professor Snape arrives, followed by Merula.

“Now that Miss Snyde is here, we can discuss your punishment,” Professor Snape says. “I still believe that expulsion is the most logical choice.”

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. Merula lets out an odd sort of whimper. Professor Snape ignores her and continues, “However, the headmaster is illogical and believes that expulsion isn’t fair in this case. Miss Snyde, you will report to the kitchens every day before breakfast for the next two weeks. Miss Serantos, Hagrid has asked for your help. You will meet him at his hut tomorrow after classes are over.”

I wonder why we weren’t given the same detention. Maybe we just can’t be trusted together.

“Meow.” I look down to see a kitten sitting near my feet. Her name is Mrs. Norris, and she belongs to Filch. There are rumors that he’s training her to identify troublemakers. If she found us, he’s training her well.

“Excuse me,” Professor Snape says, looking down at Mrs. Norris. “Filch and I have business to attend to.”

He follows Mrs. Norris as she pads down the corridor. I realize that they’re walking in the direction of where I felt that abnormal cold a few weeks ago.

Merula starts following them, so I follow her. I’m curious about what’s happening.

Merula crouches behind a suit of armor not far from where Professor Snape has joined Filch. I find a suit a bit farther back, just within earshot.

“Only me and Mrs. Norris saw the ice, sir.” Filch picks up Mrs. Norris and pets her head lovingly. “Was going to report the incident to the Headmaster, I was.”

“I will take care of that,” Professor Snape says. “This may have to do with the Serantos situation.”

I frown. Why would Professor Snape say my last name unless he was talking about... the Cursed Vaults?

“Is it true that the vaults are full of gold and prophecies from before Hogwarts existed?” Filch asks. “And that’s why the Serantos boy lost his mind trying to find them?”

“Do not concern yourself with what is inside the vaults,” Professor Snape snaps. “Worry about keeping the students out. Lock this door and keep it guarded.”

I tiptoe away, careful not to be seen. A thousand questions whirl through my brain, none of them with answers. What’s inside the locked room? Why were the vaults built, and what do they contain?

And when Professor Snape said my last name, was he referring to Jacob... or me?


	9. Things that Fly

_That night, I dream again._

_This time, I’m not inside my desolate house. Instead, I’m floating in the air above my neighborhood. I have no broom. I’m simply floating, weightless._

_Nor am I alone. Jacob’s hand grips mine. “Look, Celena,” he says, pointing down towards the ground. “There’s Mr. Martin with his dog. And there’s Mum.”_

_I look at the ground, so far below. The people look like ants, but I can make out Mr. Martin holding the leash of a snarling white dog. His dog, Milkyway, is small and fluffy and couldn’t look less menacing, but somehow she’s decided that she’s the ruler of the neighborhood._

_Was. Milkyway died a few months ago, not long before I started at Hogwarts. Her presence is the proof that I’m not looking down on the real world, but a past one, the one I miss so much._

_“When are you coming home, Jacob?” I ask suddenly, and my voice is that of the little kid I used to be._

_“Whenever you find me,” Jacob says. He turns his head away, but not before I see the tears in his eyes. “I’m trapped. I need your help.”_

_”I’ll find you,” I promise, but when I look at my brother again, he’s gone, faded into the clouds._

* * *

I wake in a familiar place, near Professor Dumbledore’s office.

Without even thinking about it, I creep in the direction of the door Filch and Professor Snape were discussing. If nothing else, I can see how it’s being guarded.

This part of the castle is dark, but I don’t dare light my wand. In the darkness, I can just make out a small silhouette near the door. Mrs. Norris. Of course. Although a cat doesn’t seem like the best guard at first glance, Mrs. Norris can quickly fetch reinforcements in the form of Filch and maybe Professor Snape.

I slip away before Mrs. Norris can notice me. Jacob said he’s trapped and needs my help. I have to get behind that door, but it’s going to require planning.

Good thing I’m a Ravenclaw.

* * *

I catch Rowan before she can walk to the Great Hall for breakfast. “Rowan, I need to talk to you. Here.”

“All right.” Rowan stops. “Is it about your punishment? What is it?”

“I’m supposed to help Hagrid. I have to go down there after breakfast, actually, but-“

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Rowan interrupts. “Do you think I can come?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to crash detentions,” I laugh. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” I describe my dream and Filch and Snape’s conversation.

“Are you sure your dream wasn’t just... a dream?” Rowan asks with a frown. “You miss your brother, so it’s natural that you would want a way to find him.”

“It felt way more real than a dream.” Inside, though, my conviction wavers. What if Rowan is right, and I’m just imagining things?

Suddenly Rowan disappears, and I find myself floating in the air again. This time I’m above Hogwarts. The air is cold, the lake frozen over. It could be a normal day.

Except that ice is creeping up Hogwarts as well. At first it expands slowly, spreading around the bottom floor. Then it quickens its pace, spreading faster and faster until it encases the entire castle in a giant ice cube.

There’s no one on the grounds. They’re all still in the castle. Trapped. Freezing.

“Celena!” I become aware that Rowan is calling my name, though I have no idea how long she’s been doing so.

My breathing is rapid. I do my best to slow it. “I had a vision,” I gasp. “Ice encasing all of Hogwarts.”

Rowan looks worried now. “Come see me after your detention. I know where you need to go.”

“All right,” I agree, before Rowan, guided as much by her stomach as by her clever mind and kind heart, pulls me to the Great Hall for breakfast.

* * *

After I’ve finished with breakfast, I leave Rowan and Alana and walk outside. I find the small hut where the groundskeeper lives. I wonder who built it, and how many groundskeepers lived in it before Hagrid.

I stop in front of the door. Should I knock? I raise my hand and knock on the door, triggering an explosion of barking inside the hut. The sound reminds me of Milkyway, although the barks aren’t quite the same pitch.

I hear the sound of footsteps, and then the door opens. A black puppy bounds past Hagrid and starts jumping on my legs.

 _“Back,_ Fang,” Hagrid says, pulling the puppy away. “Sorry abou’ tha’, Celena.”

“It’s alright.” I bend over and scratch behind Fang’s ears. “You’re a handsome boy.”

Fang rolls over, exposing his belly. “You’re good with animals,” Hagrid says. “Tha’s jus’ what I need.”

I straighten. “What exactly are we doing? Professor Snape didn’t say.”

“There are a lotta magical creatures aroun’ here, so you and I are goin’ ter be lookin’ after ‘em,” Hagrid explains. “Go outside ter the pumpkin patch. We’ll start there.”

I follow his instructions. The pumpkins are much larger than normal pumpkins, and I wonder what makes them so big.

Hagrid lifts one of the leaves on a pumpkin, revealing a cluster of tiny white dots. “These are fairy eggs,” he explains. “We raise a bunch of ‘em for Professor Snape’s classes. They’re right vain creatures, an’ it’s abou’ time to start decoratin’ fer Christmas, so we’ll be lurin’ some up ter the castle fer Professor Flitwick.”

“How do you do that?” I ask. I try to remember if I know anything about fairies, but nothing comes to mind.

“Usually I jus’ use a whole bunch of mirrors. They’re so intent on admirin’ their reflections that they fly right where I want ‘em to,” Hagrid explains, handing me a leather bag identical to the one he’s holding. I open it and see that it’s full of small mirrors.

“On’y problem is if you don’ have enough mirrors, they’ll start fightin’,” Hagrid continues. “Tha’s why I always try ter have some extras. Come on. This way.” He walks towards another section of his garden, his long stride eating up the distance with ease. I have to run to keep up.

I stop when I see a small creature hovering in the air in front of us. It’s maybe four inches tall, with shimmering, multicolored wings. “It’s wings are beautiful,” I say.

The fairy buzzes happily. “Now show it a mirror,” Hagrid instructs. I open the bag and place a mirror in the palm of my hand.

 _Buzz buzz._ The fairy hovers over the mirror, staring at its reflection and stroking its hair.

“Now back up slowly towards the castle. Not that slow.” I walk backwards with the fairy following me. “Bring it ter the Great Hall. I’m goin’ to find another one,” Hagrid says before heading back to his garden.

Finally, the fairy and I reach the Great Hall. A dozen Christmas trees are already set up. Hagrid brought them up yesterday.

“Over here, Miss Serantos.” I walk towards Professor Flitwick, towards a tree that’s already been hung with garlands. “Hang the mirror on a branch.”

I use a small red ribbon to hang the mirror on the tree like an ornament. The fairy positions itself nearby with a pleased buzz.

Hagrid comes in and hangs his mirror on a higher branch. It’s odd to see something so small and fragile in his large hand.

I don’t think the fairies have stopped admiring their reflections since we first showed them the mirrors. Is there anything in the world more vain than a fairy?

* * *

When Hagrid and I have finished with the fairies, I meet Rowan outside the entrance to the common room. “So, where did you want to go?” I ask.

“This way,” Rowan answers mysteriously. “I got directions from Caleb earlier.”

I realize that I haven’t spoken to Caleb in weeks, but it feels like he’s present in my life nonetheless. A shadow, flitting just out of sight.

We pass a portrait of a little knight with a plump pony. “Draw and fight, you cowards!” The knight shouts, waving a painted sword with so much enthusiasm that he loses his balance and falls on his back. I struggle to hold back laughter, and feel bad for doing so.

“Here.” Rowan stops and points upwards at a trapdoor in the ceiling. A small plaque on the door is engraved with the words _Sybil Trelawney, Divination teacher._

“How do we get up there?” I ask Rowan.

“Well, Caleb said that there was a ladder, but I suppose Professor Trelawney only lowers it if she’s expecting company,” Rowan says. Her eyes brighten as she pulls a book from her bag. Only Rowan would carry books around on a weekend.

Rowan throws the book upwards. It hits the trapdoor with an audible _thump._

Rowan catches the book, and we wait for a response. “Think I should try again?” Rowan asks when none is forthcoming.

“Maybe,” I say. Rowan throws her book at the trapdoor again. The noise is audible to us, but does Professor Trelawney notice it?

Finally, the trapdoor opens, and a silver ladder descends. Rowan motions for me to go up first, so I do.

The room isn’t small, but it’s made claustrophobic by the clutter of tables, the oppressive heat, and the dim, reddish light. At the front of the room is a large chair with wings on the back, occupied by a woman I can only assume is Professor Trelawney. She’s a skinny woman, with a shawl wrapped around her neck and large glasses magnifying her eyes. She’s draped in countless pieces of jewelry, shiny necklaces and bangles. “Welcome, welcome,” she says in a dreamy voice. “First-years, I see, yet here you are. Eager to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future, yes?”

“Actually, we’re here because Celena had a vision,” Rowan corrects.

Professor Trelawney adjusts her glasses and examines me. “Yes... I perceive a great aura around you,” she says thoughtfully. “You are very open to the universe. Visions only come to those who are willing to recieve them.”

Rowan fidgets impatiently. “But what does it _mean?”_

“Ice symbolizes the absence of love, difficult and unexplored territory. Your vision can be taken quite literally, but the deeper you look, the more meanings you will find.”

“That’s it?” Rowan sounds unimpressed.

“You will forgive me, my dear, but you have no future in the field of Divination. You are not open enough, and my guidance can only take you so far. Your friend understands.” Professor Trelawney’s voice loses none of its misty quality. She is not being rude to Rowan, simply stating a fact.

 _The absence of love. Difficult and unexplored territory._ I do know my vision meant. Literally, it shows the danger that could come. The locked room must be the start of the ice I saw. But it means more than that, especially when coupled with Jacob’s words. It’s the sign that confirms that my path is the right one.

As soon as we’ve descended from Trelawney’s tower, I squeeze Rowan’s hand. “We’re getting inside that room,” I whisper.

“One way or another.”


	10. Christmas Trees

Rowan and I decide to wait until after Christmas to try to get inside the locked room, since there isn’t much time left anyways. Besides, Professor Flitwick has told us that he plans to teach us the Unlocking Charm, _Alohomora,_ when we return to Hogwarts.

Two days before we leave to return home, Rowan and I are sprawled on our beds, working on a Potions essay. Professor Snape was the only one who assigned homework so close to break, but fortunately, it’s one of his least complex assignments.

Rowan keeps looking at the window, as if she’s expecting something. I try asking what she’s waiting for, but she doesn’t respond, so I give up.

An owl glides into the room, and Rowan shoots to her feet and charges the owl, which is impressively unruffled.

“So now will you tell me what this is all about?” I ask after the owl has flown off and Rowan is done reading the letter.

“I asked my parents if you could come stay at the farm for Christmas, and they said yes!” Rowan says enthusiastically before shoving a piece of parchment and a quill into my hands. “Now you just have to write to your parents and get permission.”

“I don’t have an owl,” I remind her.

“So go to the Owlery,” Rowan says matter-of-factly.

“Duh.” I scribble a quick letter and roll it up neatly, giving Rowan her quill back. “You want to come?”

“No thanks. I still have to finish my essay.” Rowan carefully smooths out her Potions homework, which had gotten a bit crumpled in all the excitement.

“All right.” I leave and find my way to the Owlery.

The Owlery is on top of a tall tower. I stop in a circular room with a straw-covered floor. There are several windows around the edge of the room, none of which contain glass. Apart from the locked door, it’s the coldest part of Hogwarts.

Something crunches under my feet and I look down. The straw is littered with tiny skeletons, regurgitated by the owls.

I select a beautiful Snowy Owl and tie my letter to his leg. I carry him to one of the windows and raise my arm. He pushes off, flying towards the Khanna farm.

I realize that I’m not alone. Talbott Winger, my reclusive year mate, is watching one of the owls, although he doesn’t seem to be planning on sending a letter. I consider greeting him, but decide against it. If he wants solitude, then I’ll let him have it.

With my eyes still on Talbott, I nearly walk into someone else as I’m leaving the Owlery. “Sorry!” I say. _Wait... Caleb?_

“Hey, Caleb,” I say. I haven’t talked to him since the Devil’s Snare.

“Hi, Celena.” He seems flustered. He won’t meet my eyes.

“I wanted to thank you for... everything,” I say.

“S-sorry, I can’t talk right now.” Caleb’s eyes are flicking around, refusing to meet mine. He’s very nervous, and... a little scared? I must be imagining it.

I frown. What’s bothering him so much? “All right. Maybe later?”

Caleb freezes. His eyes finally steady, but they seem to be focusing on a point somewhere beyond me, as if he’s staring straight through me. “I don’t know. There’s something I need to do.”

“All right,” I say again before leaving the Owlery. I’m halfway down the stairs before I realize...

Caleb wasn’t holding a letter.

* * *

Two days later, Rowan and I haul our trunks down to the Hogwarts express. My parents gave permission for me to spend Christmas with Rowan.

We find a compartment with Ben and Alana, both of whom are returning to their own families. 

Rowan looks at me questioningly. _Should we tell them?_

I nod subtly. _Yes._

“Why are you two looking at each other like that?” Alana cuts in. Maybe I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.

“Have either of you noticed that Hogwarts has been colder lately?” I ask. I explain everything about the locked door and my vision, answering questions whenever they’re asked.

“So you need a way to get past Mrs. Norris, a way to open the door, and a time to investigate when no one else will be around,” Ben says.

I nod in confirmation. “I was thinking we could investigate at night, and use _Alohomora_ to open the door.”

“I actually think you’re more likely to be caught at night, with Filch and Snape both prowling around,” Alana says. “What about during the Ravenclaw-Slytherin Quidditch match at the end of February? Professor Snape won’t miss that.”

I think about it for a moment. Alana has a point. “But will we be ready by then? We still don’t have a way to get past Mrs. Norris.”

“You and Rowan can brainstorm over the holidays. I’ll work on learning _Alohomora-_ I can’t actually try it out, but I can practice the wand movement,” Ben says. “That way I can help you if you need it.”

“And what about me?” Alana asks.

Ben shrugs. “Help Celena and Rowan, I guess.”

“I’ll send an owl to Tulip,” Alana says instead. “I’m sure she’ll know a way to make sure Filch doesn’t find us.”

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

We all look at each other with poorly concealed terror. Did the trolley witch hear what we were discussing?

If she did, she shows no sign of it. “Chocolate Frogs, please,” Alana chirps, recovering her composure the fastest.

The rest of us collect ourselves and make our requests. Between the four of us, we end up with a mound of Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, and Licorice Wands.

Rowan is curious about how Muggles celebrate Christmas, so Ben and Alana take turns explaining it to her. It really isn’t very different. Muggles have to make do with electricity instead of magic, of course, but that’s really it.

* * *

Rowan and I find her parents and Finch after leaving the train. Ben and Alana immediately walk through the barrier, searching for their parents.

“How have you girls been?” Rowan’s dad asks, taking one end of Rowan’s trunk. Her mum grabs my trunk with one hand, gripping Finch’s hand with the other. 

“We’ve been fine,” Rowan says. “All of our classes are really fun. Professor Snape’s kind of grumpy, though.”

“He wasn’t teaching there when we went to Hogwarts,” Rowan’s mum says. “We had old Slughorn, remember, Colt?”

Rowan’s dad nods. “Of course. Who’s teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?”

Rowan makes a face. “Professor Gibson. He spends the entire time lecturing us on how things were better in _his_ day.”

“In _my_ day, young wizards and witches knew to respect their elders. In _my_ day, _everyone_ could cast this spell. In _my_ day, students knew not to read in class,” I say in my best impression of Professor Gibson’s crotchety voice.

“I’m assuming that last one was aimed at you two?” Rowan’s dad says in a disappointed tone, although he’s smirking slightly as he shakes his head in fake disapproval.

“We _have_ to read the textbook in his class. It’s the only way to learn anything,” Rowan huffs.

The platform is mostly empty now, so I start walking out. “We took the Knight Bus here,” Rowan’s mum says.

“Ooh,” Rowan says excitedly. “Can I call it?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, but extends her right hand once we leave the platform.

 _Bang!_ A purple triple-decker bus appears in front of us. I jump.

“You’ve never ridden on the Knight Bus?” Rowan asks. I shake my head.

“Well, it’s a... _wild_ ride,” Rowan says with a smirk.

At that moment, a man in a purple uniform the same color as the Knight Bus appears in the open door. “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this evening,” he says.

We haul the trunks onto the bus, which is filled with an array of beds. The beds don’t seem to be attached to the floor, which means they’ll slide everywhere when the bus moves.

“I hope you didn’t bring anything breakable.” Rowan looks suddenly concerned. “I forgot to warn you.”

I shake my head and sit on one of the beds, keeping a firm grip on my trunk.

Rowan’s mum and Finch sit down as well while Rowan’s dad tells the conductor where we’re going.

There’s another _bang,_ and then the bus starts moving at an exhilarating speed. As I expected, the beds lurch forwards when the bus slams to a stop.

Stan Shunpike helps a group of wizards off- or rather, shouts his description of the Knight Bus at them as they get off.

We take off again. Riding the Knight Bus reminds me of a ride at the Muggle amusement park Dad used to take Jacob and me to, and I grin, but it quickly fades. _I’m breaking my promise._

I push the thought out of my head. I’m just doing what has to be done to bring Jacob home.

* * *

We get off the Knight Bus on top of a hill near a small, red house. Spread out below is row after row of different trees. “I’ll teach you all the different kinds tomorrow,” Rowan promises.

I take one last look at the picturesque landscape before letting her pull me inside.

“We don’t have a spare bedroom,” Rowan’s mum says. “So you can either sleep on the couch or we can put a sleeping bag in Rowan’s room for you.”

“I’ll take the couch,” I say with a mischievous grin. “It’ll be nice to have a break from Rowan’s snoring.”

Next we have to work out the problem of where to put my trunk. Rowan says it will fit in her room, so we pull them down the hall.

* * *

Finch brings his camera to dinner. At first I’m confused, but then I remember what Rowan said at the beginning of the year. So when he offers me a bowl of ice cream, I know what to expect.

That doesn’t mean I can control my face, though.

Finch grins and takes a picture. “Yours is even better than Rowan’s!”

I laugh and accept a bowl of normal ice cream from Rowan.

* * *

Christmas morning dawns snowy and cold. I’m the first to wake up, followed by Finch, then Rowan, and then their parents. Rowan’s parents took us shopping for gifts yesterday. I got Rowan a sweater, Alana a joke book, and Ben a stuffed elephant. While he’s scared of several animals, elephants aren’t one of them.

Rowan got me a history book. I give her a puzzled look. While it’s a gift I can easily see her giving, she knows that I already have this book. “Look at it later,” she says.

Ben sent me a Muggle friendship bracelet kit. _I noticed that you never take your bracelet off. I figured you might like some new ones,_ reads a small note tucked into the wrapping. I’ve never told my friends about the bracelet, what it really means.

Alana sent me a watch that looks identical to hers. _I don’t know how you and Rowan are never late,_ her note reads. I don’t know how I’m going to fit all of this stuff on my wrists.

My parents sent me cards and a letter saying that they’re saving my real present for when I come home. There’s also a letter from my Muggle friend, Nola.

I bite my lip. Nola lives next door to me, and we became friends when I was being homeschooled and she was going to the local primary school. She’s kind of odd. Her parents joke that she has her head in the clouds and her feet on the ground- curious, obsessed with fantasy stories, but organized. I tell her stories of the Wizarding world, and she doesn’t know they’re real. The only problem is that if someone finds out, she’ll have to be Obliviated.

With everything that’s been happening, I haven’t written to her, not even to say that I wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas. What kind of friend am I?

After we’ve finished opening presents, Finch brings out his photo album and we look through the different faces. Rowan was right. Hers is impressive.

I slip away to scribble a quick letter to Nola, apologizing for not writing and promising to talk to her over the summer. I can write more later.

Rowan, as promised, takes me on a walk through the trees. We bundle up with coats and hats and gloves, and Rowan leads me through the rows, naming every kind of tree. Many have shed their leaves for the winter, but there are still several rows of green.

I spot a small green figure on one of the trees. It’s well camouflaged, and I can barely make it out. “Is that a bowtruckle?” I whisper.

“Yes. They like wand wood trees,” Rowan says in a louder voice. “You don’t have to whisper. They’re friendly unless you squeeze them.”

I walk closer, examining the bowtruckle. It’s skinny and leaf-green, with limbs that look fragile and twiglike. The top of its head has leaves sprouting from it.

“Hold out your hand, palm down,” Rowan instructs. I hold out my right hand, and the bowtruckle gingerly places one limb on my hand.

I giggle. The bowtruckle tickles as it makes it’s way up my arm, finally stopping near my shoulder.

“It likes you,” Rowan says. “It took me weeks to get one to go past my hand.” She thinks for a second, then adds, “Though that could be because I was three at the time.”

I giggle again. “What other animals live here?”

“Well, there are fairies,” Rowan says. “The bowtruckles like to eat their eggs, though they can’t often get them. Lots of birds.”

We finish our walk, and then Rowan leads me back to the bowtruckle’s tree. “Time to go home, little guy,” I say as I hold out my arm again. The bowtruckle scampers back onto its branch. I’m sad it go. Its cute and friendly.

“So, what’s the book about?” I ask before we go inside.

“It’s about the history of the Cursed Vaults. Apparently, your brother wasn’t the first person to seek the Vaults. Not even close. A student tries to open them every fifteen years or so,” Rowan explains.

“Wow. I’ll read it later. Maybe it can give us some ideas,” I say.

“The book also said that tampering with the vaults unleashes curses, but opening the vaults gets rid of the curses. So as long as we wait until the curses have been unleashed, Dumbledore can’t punish us for helping Hogwarts,” Rowan says.

I can’t share her optimism. “Let’s just hope he sees it that way...”


	11. Preparing for the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group makes plans, Celena has detention again, and I REALLY don’t know how Alana became such a big character but I lost control of her, so... yeah.

We meet Ben and Alana on the platform. “How were your holidays?” I ask as we board the train.

“Good,” Ben says. “My neighbor had a new dog. It barks a lot.”

“My family and I went skiing,” Alana says. “It was fun. We got hot chocolate.”

Rowan and I don’t have very much to say, but we listen to their idle chatter until we’ve succeeded in finding an empty compartment.

We shove our trunks above our heads, and then it’s time to get down to business. “Did you guys find anything?” I ask as we sit down.

“Tulip said that Filch cares the most about Mrs. Norris, and he won’t leave his office if he thinks he’s protecting her,” Alana says.

“So you want us to threaten a _cat?!”_ I gasp.

“Well, we don’t actually have to go through with it,” Alana reassures me. “I’ll tell Filch that I overheard a couple of students say that they were planning to make all of the confiscated prank items in his office go off, and he has to stay in his office to make sure they can’t go through with it.”

“I think I have the wand movement for _Alohomora_ down,” Ben reports. “We can practice in the Room of Requirement later.”

“Rowan and I couldn’t think of anything, but-“

“Sleeping Draught!” Rowan blurts. We all stare at her in confusion. Her eyes are shining in excitement as she explains, “We can give Mrs. Norris Sleeping Draught and sneak past her while she’s asleep.” Her face falls. “The only problem is, Sleeping Draught is a second-year potion, and none of us are good enough to brew it.”

I remember Penny’s offer from after I dueled Merula. “I’ll ask Penny Haywood,” I say. “She offered to help me with potions if I ever needed it.”

“I don’t think this is exactly what she had in mind,” Rowan says doubtfully, “but I suppose you can try.”

“I’ll ask her after Herbology tomorrow,” I say. “Should we work on _Alohomora_ Thursday before Transfiguration? I have detention tomorrow.”

“Did Hagrid say what you’d be doing?” Alana asks.

I shrug. “All he said was to meet him at the Quidditch pitch. I guess I’ll find out then.”

* * *

In the center of the Quidditch stands is a large oval field, striped with different shades of green. The field is pockmarked with odd little holes. At either end is a sandy area with the three goal hoops. The stands are draped in banners for each of the four houses.

Hagrid is standing in the center of the field, joined by a first-year Gryffindor girl. Her name is Skye Parkin. Apart from Penny, she’s the most popular student in our year. Did she get detention as well?

“All righ’, Celena. Skye will be helping us degnome the pitch today in preparation for the match,” Hagrid says.

“You’re the one who dueled Merula,” Skye said. “Good job. She had it coming.” Her words are nice, but there’s an odd look on her face, nervous and expectant. It’s a look I know well, because it’s one I wear often. She’s expecting a reaction to her name.

I strain my memory. “Oh! You’re the one from the Quidditch family, right?” I say. “Sorry, I’m not a huge Quidditch fan.”

Skye looks thrilled. What she’s found is something every famous person without the world’s biggest ego eventually seeks; anonymity. “I’m going to try out for the team next year,” she says. “One of the Chasers is graduating.”

Hagrid reminds us that we do have a job today, so we follow him to one of the holes in the field. A creature with pointed ears, light green skin, and a shiny red nose pops it’s head out of the hole.

Hagrid seizes the startled gnome, holding it above his head by the ankles. “Gnomes are curious creatures,” he puffs, swinging the gnome above his head. “They’ll come to investigate anything, which makes getting rid of them easy. Jus’ swing it above your head to get ‘em dizzy, like this, then-“ Rather than explain the next step, Hagrid simply throws the gnome over the stands.

“Umm, Hagrid... I don’t think we can throw them that far,” I say, craning my head to watch the gnome flying way up into the air.

“Course you can’t,” Hagrid says. He retrieves a Beater’s bat that I hadn’t noticed from the shadow of the stands and gives it to Skye. “You’re going to throw them, and Skye will give them a bit more oomph.”

I find another hole. A few of the gnomes have poked their heads up, curious about what’s happening. I pick one. “Don’t go easy on them or they’ll bite,” Skye warns.

I swing the gnome above my head in circles, ignoring its frustrated cries. Skye lifts her bat. I let go of the gnome, sending it flying into the air. Skye takes a swing and connects solidly with the gnome’s pudgy stomach.

I watch the gnome disappear over the pitch walls in the direction Hagrid threw his gnome. The others are practically lining up at my feet, completely lacking any kind of survival instinct. I remember watching some Muggle sport with my dad when I was a kid- baseball, that’s what it was called. I didn’t pay much attention because it was a sport, and therefore mind-numbingly dull, but it feels like we’re playing baseball now.

* * *

“You’re good with that bat,” I puff some time later as the last gnome disappears. “You sure you’re a Chaser?”

“I’ve played every position,” Skye says. “My dad wanted me to be prepared for every opportunity.” Apparently remembering that I don’t know who her dad is, she explains a bit more; “Ethan Parkin. He plays for the Wigtown Wanderers. He’s expecting me to do the same. Everyone is. Quidditch is in our blood, ever since our family founded the Wigtown Wanderers.”

“That must put a lot of pressure on you,” I say sympathetically.

Skye’s face suddenly becomes closed off. “It’s what I want to do.”

She runs off before I can apologize. Hagrid has already left, leaving me in the middle of the field wondering what I did wrong.

* * *

The Room of Requirement looks almost the same as before, except for the variety of locks strewn around the floor. I select a simple bronze lock and join the others in a circle.

Ben demonstrates the wand movement; a circle followed by a downward line. The pronunciation is fairly simple.

_”Alohomora.”_ It takes a few tries, but eventually we all get the hang of the spell. Ben suggests that we practice on different locks, so we disperse throughout the room. Some of the locks are more complex than others, some have been sealed magically, and others resist all attempts at the Unlocking Charm, even those made by Ben.

I freeze, holding one of the most stubborn locks. “What if the door has been charmed to resist _Alohomora?”_

The other three look up, their faces suddenly nervous. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s a pointless question. What if it is? There’s no way to know, no other way past the door that we’re capable of. We’ve done too much planning to give up now, so all we can do is hope.

Hope. The success of our plan rests on something so fragile it can hardly support a drop of water. We’re treading on thin ice now.

“We hope it hasn’t been,” Alana finally says, echoing my thoughts. It’s not a satisfactory answer, but then, real questions have no answers.

And if they do, they’re hidden away behind locked doors...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note about Quidditch; I find it ridiculous that in order to make the math work out, almost everyone who played Quidditch at Hogwarts would have to go on to play it professionally. So in this world, there are only four teams; the Chudley Cannons, the Wigtown Wanderers, the Wimbourne Wasps, and the Montrose Magpies. These four teams play each other round-robin style like the house teams, and the team that accumulates the most points wins the League Cup. The seven best players across all four teams play for the World Cup.


	12. The Last Steps

The Potions classroom is deserted except for Penny, empty of even Professor Snape.

“Where’s Professor Snape?” I ask as I take the seat across from her.

“Professor Gibson quit. He’s staying for the rest of the year, but he won’t be coming back next year,” Penny informs me.

“Already? We’re barely halfway through the year.” I can’t say I’ll be sorry to see him go.

“He said he couldn’t take us ‘ignorant youngsters’ anymore, and he’s going somewhere where his talents will be appreciated.”

“So what does this have to do with Professor Snape?”

“He’s campaigning to Professor Dumbledore for the job.”

“And you know all of this how?”

“I have my sources,” Penny giggles.

I realize that I’m not going to get any more information out of her and flip my book open to the page for Sleeping Draught. “Have you brewed Sleeping Draught before?”

“No, but I’m confident in my skills.” Penny already has all of the ingredients out and is reading the recipe while she talks. “So, are you going to tell me what it’s for? I’ll find out eventually, you know. You wouldn’t believe how much people gossip.”

It’s better that she hear it from me, when I have a chance to explain everything properly. “There’s a locked door that I believe is connected to my brother’s disappearance. It’s guarded by Mrs. Norris, so I need the Sleeping Draught to get past her.”

Penny nods, as nonchalantly as if she hears this kind of stuff every day. “Tell me how it goes, all right?”

“Of course. I owe you.”

“I heard you have detention with Skye Parkin,” Penny says suddenly. 

“Yes. Are you a Quidditch fan?”

“I _love_ the Wigtown Wanderers!” Penny exclaims. “I’ve been to every one of their games since I was old enough to be a fan. So, how is Skye? Is she nice? Of course she’s nice, she’s a Parkin!”

“If you would let me talk, I could tell you,” I say with a laugh. “Yeah, she’s nice. We degnomed the Quidditch pitch together. It’s obvious that the Parkins are serious. She said her dad taught her to play every position.”

“Her dad is the captain of the Wigtown Wanderers,” Penny informs me. “Everyone expects Skye to follow in his footsteps.”

“I still have a long way to go before I get there,” a voice says from the door.

“Skye!” Penny shrieks, but she seems to lose her voice after that. Her mouth opens and closes silently, like a goldfish.

“She wants your autograph,” I inform Skye. “She seems to have lost her voice, so I’ll ask her for you.”

Penny nods vigorously. Skye digs a quill and a piece of parchment out of her bag and scribbles her name on it. Penny accepts it reverently, as if she’s been given a gift from the gods.

“Now that that’s done, I need to talk to you, Celena. Alone,” she adds, shooting a glance at Penny.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Penny says, finally recovering her voice. I follow Skye into the corridor.

“What’s this about?” I ask, eyeing Skye’s bookbag, which she’s carrying with her, although it appears to be almost empty.

“I’m failing Charms,” Skye says bluntly.

“So you want me to tutor you?”

Skye looks at the ground. “It was Professor Flitwick’s idea. He says you’re one of the best in the year, and we already know each other, so...”

“Where should we go?”

“Professor Flitwick said we could work in his classroom.” We walk to the Charms classroom. Professor Flitwick isn’t there. He’s probably in his office.

Skye takes a seat in the front row. I sit next to her. “Any specific spell you need to work on?”

 _”Wingardium Leviosa,”_ Skye says. “I’ve set the feather on fire a couple of times, and once it got sort of crumpled, but I haven’t managed to make it fly.”

I get up and grab two feathers from the bin, one for me and one for Skye. “Try it out so I can see what the problem is.”

 _“Wingardium Leviosa,”_ Skye says, flicking her wand and causing the feather to burst into flames.

“That’s the problem. You aren’t doing the wand movement right. It’s not just a _flick,_ it’s _swish and flick.”_ I demonstrate, moving my wand in a U-shape before flicking it downwards. _“Wingardium Leviosa.”_

I offer her my feather, and Skye tries again, and this time the feather wobbles, but does not rise. I watch closely so I can offer more advice.

“Loosen up. You’re too tense. And you don’t need to use your entire arm, just your wrist.” I demonstrate again.

Skye loosens her grip on her wand and gives it an experimental flick. The feather bursts into flames again.

 _”Aguamenti.”_ I shoot a stream of water from my wand, putting it out. “We need new feathers now.” This time I grab a few extras.

 _”Wingardium Leviosa,”_ Skye says. The feather wobbles. One ends lifts off the desk. I hold my breath. The feather rises gently... but one end stays firmly planted on the desk, so that the feather is standing straight up.

“Close. You’re getting better,” I reassure Skye. “Try it again.”

 _”Wingardium Leviosa.”_ The feather stirs... wobbles... and ever so slowly, it lifts into the air until it’s hovering a foot off the desk.

“Not good enough,” Skye sighs. “We have to get three feet on our exam.”

“It’s better than it was,” I reassure her. “Try it again.”

An hour and seventeen charred feathers later, Skye finally succeeds in holding her latest feather level three feet off the desk. She goes to try again, but I stop her. “That’s enough for today.”

“My dad always says that you’re not finished when you get something right, but when you never get it wrong,” Skye says stubbornly.

“That’s good advice, but it doesn’t mean you need to do everything in one day. Besides, you’ve decimated Professor Flitwick’s feather supply.”

“All right,” Skye concedes. “Should we practice again tomorro?”

“Fine.” Skye picks up her book and leaves. I remember that one of the requirements to be a Quidditch player is that you have to keep your grades up. No wonder Skye’s so insistent about learning _Wingardium Leviosa._

* * *

The next day is Friday, the day before the Quidditch match, the day before we finally enter the locked room. Our only class is Potions.

“Today we will be brewing the Herbicide Potion,” Professor Snape says when we’ve all taken our seats. This time, we’re joined by Liz Tuttle. Merula is at a table with two other Slytherins. “Who can tell me what the Herbicide Potion is used for?”

Rowan and Liz both raise their hands. “Miss Tuttle?”

“As the name implies, the Herbicide Potion is used to kill unwanted plants, such as weeds,” Liz answers.

“Correct. Five points to Slytherin,” Professor Snape says. “Please note that the Herbicide Potion is toxic to all living organisms, so drinking it will most likely kill you.” This last sentence is directed at Barnaby Lee, the boy at Merula’s table. He’s swallowed several of his own brews on dares.

“Now, who can tell me what makes the Herbicide Potion so difficult?” Professor Snape continues. “Miss Khanna.”

“Two of the four ingredients, lionfish spines and horklump juice, have healing properties,” Rowan answers. “The trick is to make sure they react properly with the other ingredients, thereby inverting their effects.”

“Correct.” Professor Snape always sounds as if that word pains him, unless it’s addressed to a Slytherin. “You may begin.”

I crush a mixture of lionfish spines and standard ingredient and add it to my cauldron. The mixture lets off a sharp smell when I wave my wand over it.

I start working on the weekend’s homework while the potion brews, as has become my custom. The other Ravenclaws are doing the same, along with about half of the Slytherins, including Liz. 

I finish my essay in just under forty minutes, which is perfect timing. I add the horklump juice to my cauldron and turn up the heat. The next ingredient, flobberworm mucus, is a thick slime used to thicken the potion, which is more of a paste than a liquid.

Finally, I stir the paste four times clockwise and wave my wand over it.

I can make out the sounds of soft talking coming from Merula’s table, though not the words. I look over just in time to see Merula stir her potion. _One... two... three..._

I scoop some of my completed potion into a bottle, as if I’m going to drop it off on Professor Snape’s desk, but instead I walk over to Merula’s table.

“You need to stir one more time,” I say.

Merula jumps, but recovers quickly and turns. “What?”

“The directions say to stir four times. You only stirred three times,” I explain.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I sigh in annoyance. Is Merula really going to mess up her potion because her pride won’t let her accept help from me? 

“Shockingly, in this solitary instance, Serantos is correct.” Professor Snape must have heard our conversation. “Even a reckless, incompetent fool like you can become a middling witch by following instructions, Serantos.”

“Ehm... thanks?” It’s a compliment... or as close as I’m going to get from Professor Snape.

Merula looks annoyed, but she stirs her potion again. I carry my potion to Professor Snape’s desk. Merula fills her own bottle and is right behind me.

“Don’t think you’re getting in that room before me, Serantos,” she hisses.

I ignore her. I beat her once, I can do it again.

* * *

I meet Ben in the Room of Requirement that afternoon. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah.” Ben is pale. He leads me to a pair of chairs that the room has constructed. There’s a small table in between them, because everything about that screams “place to have important conversations”. At least according to the Room of Requirement.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Celena,” Ben says. “Go into that room.”

“Are you afraid? No one blames you. We’re all scared of what we’ll find behind that door,” I say.

“Afraid of what we’ll face in that room? Yes. No. Partly,” Ben says vaguely.

“What?”

“I’m afraid of what I’ll find behind that door, but... I’m also afraid to let you down,” Ben confesses. “I want to be brave, I want to help you, but I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“So don’t come.” My answer is blunt and catches him off guard. “If you aren’t ready, that’s okay. We’ll help you get ready. You have to start small, and this... isn’t small.”

“That’s definitely true.” Ben smiles weakly. “But I’m a Gryffindor. I’m supposed to be brave.”

“The Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor for a reason. You _are_ brave. It’s just locked inside of you, buried deep. We’ll help you find it,” I reassure him. Ben still looks upset. “Look, Ben, you can’t be so afraid of the present that you forget about the future. Maybe tomorrow you won’t be ready to face your fears, but when you are, even if it’s years from now, they’ll be waiting.”

“You make that sound like a good thing.”

“It is. You can’t avoid them forever, but you can put off confronting them. At least, with big fears you can. Baby steps, remember?”

“Baby steps. Next time, I’ll come. This time, maybe it will help your alibi to leave me behind.”

“Next time you’ll be ready. Next time we’ll help you through it. That’s a promise.” Ben and I leave, agreeing on the change of plans. I’ll find Rowan and Alana and tell them.

Tomorrow, we enter the locked room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter where I told the characters what to do, and they were like, “Nope”. I thought it was unrealistic that Ben would be willing to do something like entering the locked room in his first year, but maybe next year? Remember, he’s still getting used to the magical world at this point.


	13. Into the Room

Since Ben won’t be joining us, I ask Penny to meet me in the library. It’s the only place I could think of. Talking can be overheard, but we won’t be talking.

 _You told me you wanted to know what happened inside that locked room,_ I write, sliding the note over to Penny.

Her eyes widen and she scribbles a reply. _You haven’t gone in already, have you?!_

 _No. I came to ask you to join us,_ I write.

Penny writes something, pauses thoughtfully, and then writes again. _Of_ _course I’ll come! I love adventures. So, who else is coming? You, me, Rowan, Ben, and Alana?_

 _Not Ben. He’s going to the Quidditch match to cover for us. You do understand that there’s still a very good chance that we’ll get caught, right?_ I can’t let her do this unless she understands the consequences.

Penny’s response is instant. _Of course I do. I’m still coming. I wouldn’t miss this for anything._

_Okay. Meet us near the locked door- I assume you know where it is?- right after the Quidditch match starts._

_I’ll brew another potion to help us,_ Penny writes. Her forehead is scrunched slightly as she tries to think of her best potion.

* * *

The next day, it’s time. As everyone else is walking outside to the Quidditch pitch, the four of us slip away. Ben whispers “Good luck” as he passes me.

We walk until we reach the end of the corridor with the locked door. Mrs. Norris is sitting in front of the door, licking one paw. 

“How are we going to do this?” I whisper. “I haven’t thought about how to give a cat a Sleeping Draught.”

Penny pulls the bottle from her robes. The potion is lilac in color, several shades lighter than it should be. I frown as I wonder if Penny has too much confidence in her skills.

“I mixed it with milk,” Penny explains. “Cats love milk. She should lap it right up.”

Penny tiptoes towards Mrs. Norris. The rest of us hang back for a moment, watching. Mrs. Norris hisses when she sees Penny. It’s the only sound in the corridor. We’re all holding our breath as Penny kneels and pours a small puddle of Sleeping Draught onto the floor.

For a moment, Mrs. Norris hesitates, torn between her duty and her feline instincts. Then she lowers her head and laps up some of the potion. Within minutes, she’s curled up on the floor, sound asleep.

Mrs. Norris won’t wake for some time, but we make an effort to walk silently. Alana gives Penny a discreet high-five.

”If magic doesn’t work out for you, you should become a burglar,” Penny whispers, giggling nervously.

 _”Alohomora,”_ I whisper. There’s a soft clicking sound as the lock opens. I rest my hand on the doorknob, hesitant now that the moment has arrived.

 _”Flipendo!”_ Penny is shoved against the door by the spell. I turn, raising my wand, but Merula is already casting the spell again, and I fall next to Penny.

 _”Flipendo!”_ Rowan goes down, but like a game of Whack-A-Mole, Penny is back up on her feet. I stand as well.

There’s no way Merula’s winning this fight, not with four of us. She clenches her fists with a frustrated glare on her face, which soon dissolves into a sly expression. She switches tactics. “Let me in that room, Serantos.”

“Why?”

“Because what’s in there might be dangerous, and you don’t want to risk your friends getting hurt.” Merula doesn’t really care about my friends, but she knows what to say to convince me. I’m surprised. Brute force is more her style.

I step aside, gesturing for the others to do the same. “Be my guest.”

For a moment, Penny looks like she’s about to protest, planting herself firmly between Merula and the door, but Rowan tugs her out of the way. Merula opens the door, shoving past them even though they aren’t in her way. There’s a confident sneer on her face.

The door closes behind her. “Give her a minute,” I say. “Let’s see what her reaction is.”

A minute passes, then another, long and full of tension. It’s impossible to know what’s happening on the other side of the door.

The silence is broken by Merula yelling, “Help!”

I yank open the door. No matter how awful Merula has been, I’m not leaving her alone when she’s in trouble. Besides, maybe the experience will give her another bruise on her ego.

The door closes behind us, but I barely notice, transfixed by the sight in front of me.

The first thing I notice is the cold, the same awful, biting cold as in my dream of the ghost house. The entire room is coated in ice, and I can feel the burning of the floor through my shoes. It’s barely been a moment, but already my fingers are numb.

Merula is standing in the center of the room, encased from the waist down in a block of ice.

”The ice st-stuck m-me to the floor,” she manages to say through chattering teeth. “H-help!”

“Celena!” Rowan’s voice is panicked. I look over to see that the same ice now holds my friends prisoner, reaching up to their knees before I can do a thing.

I look down to see that the ice is creeping up my legs, though it seems to be moving slower for me. _“Flipendo!”_ The ice shatters, and I start pacing, an attempt to both get a bit warmer and prevent the ice from trapping me again.

I look at my friends, now encased in ice from the waist down. The room is full of stalactites and stalagmites of ice. If I don’t act soon, there will be three more. I want to help them, but at least they’re in better shape than Merula. The ice has risen quickly, covering her mouth and silencing her terrified pleas for help. Only her eyes look out, still begging.

 _”Flipendo!”_ The jinx shatters the ice surrounding Merula, knocking her backwards.

”Owww...” Merula complains as she gets up.

I bite back a sharp remark. There’s no time for that. “Now help me free them.”

The ice has reached Rowan’s chest, but a simple Knockback Jinx is enough to shatter it. I free Alana as Merula helps Penny.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I mutter, the sound barely escaping my frozen lips. If we stay here much longer, we might get frostbite.

“Umm, Celena...” I turn to see Rowan pointing at the door. The ice has now spread across it, covering it completely and trapping us inside.

 _”F-f-flipendo.”_ We can barely say the incantation, and we’re shivering too hard to manage the wand movement. The ice is barely impacted by our weak spells. A scattering of ice crystals fall to the ground, but at this rate, we’ll have to cast the spell twenty times, and we don’t have time for that. I wish more than ever that Ben had come. His _Flipendo_ is better than any of ours.

“Wait,” Penny says, pulling another bottle from her robes. “Let’s s-see if I r-really am g-good at b-brewing p-potions.”

Her fingers are clumsy from the cold, dropping the cork, but she manages to avoid spilling whatever potion is contained inside the bottle. She takes a swig and passes it around. “D-drink some. It’s S-s-strengthening S-solution.”

We all take a sip, with the exception of Merula, who stares at in disgust. “I’m not drinking from anything you’ve put your mouth on.”

Penny displays impressive control and simply ignores Merula, telling the rest of us to line up near the door. I squeeze in between Rowan and Alana.

“Now everyone punch the door as hard as you can,” Penny instructs. I ball my hand into a fist and pull it back. I can feel my friends tensing against me, the movement of their arms as they do the same.

We hit the ice at the same time. The force of our punches is incredibly strong, shattering the ice and making it fall to the ground in pieces.

“Did anyone get ice in their hand?” Penny asks. Alana and I shake our heads, but Rowan holds up her hand, which has a large splinter of ice sticking out of it.

“Can we just leave already?” Merula whines, pushing past us through the open door.

I start to follow her, but Rowan elbows me. “Look. There’s something on the wall.”

Carved next to the door is a series of strange symbols, glowing faintly with a silver light. “It’s some kind of code. I wish I had something to write it down.”

“I already have it memorized. I have a really good memory,” Rowan says. “I’ll write it down as soon as we get back to the common room.”

“I know we wanted to keep this is a secret, but you need to go to the hospital wing,” I tell her. It’s not like it will be a secret with Sleeping Draught on the floor anyway. “We don’t know enough about that ice.”

“All right, but you two aren’t coming,” Rowan says, pointing to Penny and Alana. “Celena, you can come because I know you’ll insist on it.”

“Of course I will.” I take Rowan’s uninjured hand and lead her to the hospital wing while Penny and Alana return to their common rooms.

I tell Madam Pomfrey a series of half-truths, explaining that Rowan and I were the only ones who entered the room. I tell her that Ben was too hesitant and Alana was too responsible, and fortunately, I convince her easily enough.

“I’m going to have to tell the headmaster about this,” Madam Pomfrey says as she bandages Rowan’s hand. “You should not have gone inside that room, no matter what your reasons may have been. It was off-limits.”

“I understand.” And I do. Even though I still believe that I did the right thing when I entered that room, I still broke the rules, so I have to be punished. It isn’t Professor Dumbledore’s fault. He’s just doing his job.

When I leave the hospital wing, I hear Jacob’s voice in my head. _Good job, but that was only the beginning. You still have a long way to go._

 _I will find you,_ I promise silently. I don’t know if Jacob can hear me, but I want to believe he can. It gives me hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter... again... but year one is almost over!


	14. Year’s End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celena’s first year comes to an end, but as Dumbledore would say, as one door closes, another opens...

The fountain in the center of the courtyard spurts water into the air. The gentle sound of splashing is the only thing that breaks the silence. The pool is surrounded by four statues of dragons, wings flared and heads raised proudly. One of the four pillars has been snapped off, perhaps broken in some long-ago battle. On the far side of the courtyard, a branch stretches out horizontally. Normally at least one person is perched on it, but today it’s empty. The sky glitters with stars, lit by the white light of a gibbous moon. Not quite full, a circle with a slice missing. How my life has been for two years.

Underneath the moon, staring up with his hands clasped behind his back, is Professor Dumbledore. He’s dressed in purple robes adorned with gold stars. His black boots peek out beneath the hem.

“Professor?” There’s no response. I walk until I’m standing next to him. His gaze doesn’t waver, still trained on the stars above.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Professor Dumbledore still doesn’t look at me.

“Sir?” Why is he so fixated on the sky?

“The quiet night, the crisp air... It truly puts your troubles into perspective, doesn’t it?”

I don’t respond to this. It’s an odd thing to say, but then, the headmaster has always been odd.

“I often come here when I need to make an important decision,” Professor Dumbledore continues.

“Madam Pomfrey said I had to talk to you about everything I’ve done wrong this year,” I finally say to steer the conversation in the direction I expected it to take.

“Wrong... who gets to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? It’s all a matter of perspective,” Professor Dumbledore says. “Tell me, do you think you were in the wrong?”

I think. Does anyone ever believe they’re doing the wrong thing? “I broke the rules, but I did it for a reason.”

“Yes, I know you had your reasons, and still have them. That’s why I wanted to speak with you,” Professor Dumbledore says. “I know that you will not abandon your pursuit of the Cursed Vaults, no matter how much I punish you.”

“Does this mean you aren’t going to punish me?” I ask, although I’m not holding my breath. It seems unlikely that I’ll be expelled, but detention seems inevitable.

“No. On the contrary, I believe that you have earned one hundred points for Ravenclaw.” I do the inside my head and figure out that we’re in first place now, although there’s still time for the other houses to catch up.

“I feel as if you want to ask me something,” Professor Dumbledore says, peering at me over the lenses of his half-moon glasses.

“Why was my brother expelled?” The question slips out before I can consider it. I already know the answer, but I just want to hear it confirmed, hear Professor Dumbledore say it.

“You saved Hogwarts; your brother endangered it. I was very intrigued by your brother, but he left me no choice. It is my hope that you will discover more about his choices in the years to come.”

 _The years to come..._ Earlier today, I thought I’d never hear those words. I thought for sure I would leave on the Hogwarts Express with my friends, but unlike them, I would never return. Now, the ever-elusive hope has returned. “Do you know how many vaults there are, professor?”

“No one knows for certain, but most sources seem to agree that there are five vaults. There is very little information other than that.” Professor Dumbledore gives me a sympathetic look. “You have a very long and difficult road in front of you.”

I clench my fists by my sides. “I’m ready.”

Professor Dumbledore smiles softly, understanding in his blue eyes. “I’m sure you are. Now, go find your friends. I believe Madam Pomfrey will be releasing Miss Khanna at about this time.”

I run off, looking back over my shoulder before I leave the courtyard. “Thank you again, Professor Dumbledore. For not expelling me. And for the house points.”

Professor Dumbledore just smiles.

* * *

I reach the Hospital Wing a few minutes before Rowan leaves. The door is still closed. There’s no way for me to know she hasn’t already left, but I stay by the door for a while. It never hurts to double check.

The door opens, and I smile at the sight of my best friend, now with a bandage wrapped around her hand. “How does your hand feel?”

Rowan opens and closes her hand experimentally. “It barely hurts. Madam Pomfrey says curse wounds always take longer to heal.”

“That’s good.” There isn’t really anything else to say, so we walk in silence for a while.

“How did your meeting with Professor Dumbledore go?” Rowan asks after a while. “Did you punish you?”

“No,” I say. “It was weird. He gave me one hundred house points.”

“One _hundred?!”_ Rowan gasps. “I don’t think anyone’s gotten that many at a time before!” She insists that we take a detour to check the House Cup standings before returning to the common room. As I expected, Ravenclaw is now in first. Slytherin and Hufflepuff are tied for second, and Gryffindor is in last. There’s still plenty of time for that to change, though.

Rowan gives me a high-five with her good hand. We resume our walk to the Ravenclaw common room, bumping into Ben on the way.

He looks even more nervous than usual, his hands rubbing his arms as if he’s cold, his eyes darting back and forth as if he’s expecting someone to attack him. But as alert as he appears, he still seems startled to see us. “Hey Rowan, Celena.”

His eyes widen when he sees Rowan’s hand. “How did you get hurt?”

“We got trapped in the room when ice covered the door, so we had to punch it,” Rowan explains. “It’s just a cut. I’m fine.”

Ben still looks concerned, but he joins us as we walk. “Penny or Alana hasn’t told you what happened?” I ask.

“No. I just left the Quidditch match.”

“Is it over already?” I ask.

“Yeah. I don’t know who won, though. I didn’t pay much attention.” Ben has relaxed slightly, his movements no longer quite so furtive.

“Come on. We’ll explain everything.” Rowan leads us to the Room of Requirement. I let her take the lead in explaining as well. She’s better at this kind of thing than me.

* * *

When it’s time to take our exams, Ravenclaw is still in first for the house cup. Slytherin has edged ahead of Hufflepuff, who is now tied with Gryffindor.

For each exam, we have to take a written test before demonstrating something we’ve learned. For Transfiguration, that means writing the Transfiguration alphabet and equation as Professor McGonagall calls us up to her desk one by one.

I look up when Rowan’s name is called. I try to look encouraging. It’s all I can do in the middle of an exam.

Some time later, Professor McGonagall calls my name, and I join her at her desk. There’s a match on the desk, as well as a mouse, which Professor McGonagall is trapping with one of her hands.

Thankfully, she pushes the match towards me first. “Turn this into a needle for me, Miss Serantos,” she instructs.

I take a deep breath. This is the first Transfiguration we learned. It’s easy. I can do this. I wave my wand, and the match turns silvery and metal.

“Now turn this mouse into a snuffbox.”

I mutter a quick apology to the mouse, not caring what Professor McGonagall thinks. My snuffbox isn’t perfect, since I avoided working on this Transfiguration outside of class- it still has whiskers.

I return to my seat, glad that the hardest exam is over. I’m confident in my answers on the written exam, so my grade should still be good.

The Potions practical consists of brewing a Forgetfulness Potion while Professor Snape sweeps around the room, watching us all. He’s intimidating, and I see a few people drop their ingredients.

Professor Gibson is almost the complete opposite. He sits behind his desk, reading and paying no attention to us as we work. He can’t even be bothered to give us a practical exam.

Exams end with the Astronomy practical, which takes place at midnight on a Wednesday. We spend two hours filling out a star chart under a clear sky. When we’ve finished, Professor Sinistra collects our star charts, and exams are over.

The last week is spent in relaxation as we wait for the professors to finish grading.

The day we get our results back, the five of us gather near the lake. Penny hasn’t been able to spend much time with us, always pulled away by one group or another. Today, though, she shooed them all away.

“All Os,” Rowan says proudly after scanning through her grades. “So no matter what subject I decide to teach, I’ll be prepared.”

I smile at Rowan’s determination and look through my own grades. “All Os except for an E in Transfiguration.” It’s what I expected after my snuffbox had whiskers.

“I got an O in Charms,” Ben says. “That’s all I’m telling you.”

Penny and Alana refuse to reveal any of their grades, but Rowan and I don’t push them. 

Penny is finally pulled away by a group of the other Hufflepuff girls. As soon as she’s gone, Skye takes her place. I’ve tutored several times since that first lesson, on _Wingardium Leviosa_ and other spells. It takes her a while to get the hang of some things, but she applies the same dedication she uses in Quidditch during our tutoring sessions.

“I got an A in Charms,” Skye says. “That means I can try out for the team next year.”

It’s the closest I’m going to get to a thank-you. Skye gave me permission to tell my friends that I tutor her, but I know it embarrasses her. “That’s great, Skye!”

“I’d like to keep working with you next year, though,” Skye says. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” Between my classwork, tutoring Skye, and searching for the Cursed Vaults, my second year is going to be busy. I wonder how I’ll manage to make time for everything.

There’ll be time to plan later. For now, it’s time to relax, with no pressing problems hanging over me.

* * *

The last few days pass quickly, and before I know it, it’s time for the end-of-year feast.

Professor Dumbledore stands at the Head Table. I spot a few students looking longingly at the delicious spread of food in front of us. My stomach rumbles.

“I know you are all eager to sink your teeth into our delicious feast, but I’m afraid I must ask that you abstain for a minute,” Professor Dumbledore says with a hint of laughter in his voice. “First, the House Cup needs awarding.”

Suddenly the food is forgotten as everyone looks at Professor Dumbledore. I honestly don’t really care about the House Cup- so Ravenclaws raised their hands the most, how amazing- but I’m still curious to hear the results.

“In fourth place, Gryffindor with 3,926 points.” Is it my imagination, or does Professor Dumbledore sound a little annoyed by Gryffindor’s performance?

“In third place, Hufflepuff with 3,976 points.” The Hufflepuff table cheers, looking happy with their place.

“In second place, Slytherin with 4,010 points.” I _definitely_ am not imagining the sour expression on Professor Snape’s face, although knowing him, it could be from anything.

“And in first place, Ravenclaw with 4,100 points!” Professor Dumbledore waves his wand, and suddenly the Great Hall is decorated in the blue and bronze banners of Ravenclaw. The rest of our house jumps up and starts screaming at the top of their lungs. Rowan, Alana, and I exchange amused looks and cheer a few times.

A second-year near us pauses in his cheering to glare at us. “We won! Aren’t you excited?”

“Of course we are,” I assure him. And it’s true. I’m excited, not just for my house, but for me. For what I’ve accomplished this year. Before I met Rowan, I thought I would never make a friend here. Now I have four.

And I still have six more years, and so much more to do.


End file.
